Dark Seas
by Becky Sky
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a little mermaid, a war, and a choice. Once upon a time, she rewrote the story you thought you knew. Dare to enter the world of the Dark Seas. You will never be the same.
1. Prologue: Ghost Girl

**Prologue: Ghost Girl**

The sea was angry. It slashed against the shore with foam-white fingers, scratching and hissing as it dragged sand and shells back into the waves. But it could not reach what it was after, and it roared in its fury, waves leaping to claw the roiling grey sky.

The girl hobbled up the rocky shore toward the shadow on the hill, tripping and stumbling on weary, aching feet. Traces of mud and encrusted blood lingered on her pale face. If one had seen her on this night, they might have mistaken her for a ghost.

The shadow solidified into a building, the weathered stone of an ancient convent. The girl hesitated, her narrow shoulders trembling.

Rain began to fall. A shout echoed behind her. The girl ran, slipping on wet grass and nearly sliding back down the slope. At the last moment she caught herself and continued on, shoulders huddled for warmth.

She reached the door—a grand, massive achievement of wood and ornate carving. Not for the first time, the girl wished she could read the odd, jagged runes of the humans. She knew they meant something, just as the songs of the sea whispered wisdom into the ears of those who understood.

A gust of wind blew through her, and her entire body wavered like seaweed in a current. Before she fell, the door creaked open and a thin, bony face peeked out. "Yes?" a high, nasal voice asked.

The girl's heart thrummed with fright, jumping in her chest and making her choke. She had no dagger, no armor—she was naked, lost, and alone. Exhausted, weak, and weary. And in the presence of the enemy.

Her knees buckled, and she crumpled.

The nun stepped out before the girl could hit the ground. Catching her in skinny arms that were surprisingly strong, the woman tilted the girl's head back so she could take a look at her charge.

Raindrops slid down a delicate, slightly-upturned nose and melted into soft, full lips. Thick black eyelashes fluttered against high cheekbones under the rim of straight dark brows. The girl's eyelids were large, betraying a wide, startled-deer gaze while awake. Heavy brown curls tumbled across the nun's arm as she shifted the girl's weight.

_A beauty_, the nun thought. _An odd one, but a beauty—in an eerie, otherworldly way._ Frowning, she glanced at the sea and then to the girl's quivering frame. _I wonder where she came from? She doesn't look like a villager. _Despite the girl's soft look, her palms and fingers were as calloused as those of a warrior.

The girl moaned, startling the woman from her curiosity. She half-carried, half-dragged the girl inside, calling over her shoulder for the Mother Superior.

And the sea continued to roll, and the wind continued to scream, both searching for a way to snatch back that which had been lost.


	2. The Scarred Sea

**Author's Note: Hi everyone. Some of you reading this may know me from my Class of the Titans and Twilight fanfiction. Suffice to say, I haven't been writing much of them anymore. I've taken the time away to develop my writing and the product is this, my own piece of original work. I know this is a fanfiction site, but Fictionpress has gone a bit wack with the document editing, so I'm posting this here. Technically, it's a retelling of the Little Mermaid, so it is, in a sense, a fairy tale fanfiction. ;P Anyhow, please review and, most of all, enjoy!**

**-Becky Sky/R.D. Sky (In a while, I'm going to permanently change my profile name.)**

* * *

><p>DARK SEAS<p>

THE DARK SEAS SCROLLS BOOK ONE

**R.D. Sky**

PART ONE: THE TIDE THAT TURNS

CHAPTER ONE: THE SCARRED SEA

The sea was silent. Here, in what the humans called the Dark Seas, death had stilled the usual murmur of currents and chattering clicks of dolphins.

Here, it was empty.

Nadine had never felt the emptiness more than she did now, surrounded by shattered remnants of the past. She knelt on the seafloor, pressing her hands into sand that shifted under her touch, revealing jagged shards of broken shell that had once secreted the whispers of history. The grotto's walls spiralled high above her head, their shelves bare and listless.

She had once heard of humans holding shells to their ears to listen to the ocean's croon; she wondered if they understood what they heard, or if the sounds echoed meaningless in their minds. For the Mer, the whispers and roars had been the language of the sea, words recorded in echoes for future generations to learn and memorize.

Except now, there was no more history. She sucked in her breath. All gone; or, at least, all records the Mer had. Gone in a sweep of sea-fire and blood, along with the people that had kept them—the Crystal-Keepers, preservers of history and peace in a time of civil war.

The civil war amongst the Mer tribes was over now, but the pain had only begun. Nadine gritted her teeth and flexed her tail, scales shedding like tears. _Come on_, she thought, forcing herself to concentrate on her hands. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she strained to awaken the power that lay dormant within her, struggled to force it from her soul to her hands. She knew it was there, but it was like a chunk of dead coral.

More scales sprang from her body as her tail lashed. _Come on!_

Nothing. Just heaviness on her chest, and anger that welled thick as waves.

She lurched upward, whirling through the water in an effort to uncoil the magick in her breast and her own frustration. Her tail jerked and swung, its tattered fins grazing the walls with a thin screech. _Come on!_ As if repeating the words would make them true.

_Almaira. _The voice was her own, but the word was another's. _Almaira, Nadine. All will be well. _She repeated the phrase over and over, sinking back down to the sand and letting her mother's words flutter across her mind.

All will be well. Ironic words, she thought bitterly. Nothing was well at all—the sea was in ruins, her family slaughtered, and the only mother she could remember, the mother who had adopted her after her parents were slain with all the other Crystal-Keepers, vanished.

And yet still she came here, to the carcass of the Crystal-Keepers' village. Why? She sifted her fingers through the sand, her eyelids fluttering closed. Here, in this desolate place, she could still sense her parents, though they had died years and years ago. For years, her adopted mother Nyla had brought her here to mourn and remember. Even though Nyla was gone, Nadine could not forget. In every silent current that swept past her cheek, she imagined her mother's loving lips. In every glint of sunlight filtering through the grotto's open ceiling, she saw her father's shimmering form.

Deep in her mind, she listened to the voices she had memorized. The ache of sorrow rippled sweetly through her, relaxing her taut shoulders and pressing her against the seafloor, splayed and limp. Scales tumbled into the sand, and something unknotted within her. She dared not open her eyes, but she felt the soft glow unfurling from within and cascading through her limbs. The magick seeped from her skin, leaving a faint tremor in her blue-green veins.

And then it was over, and she felt empty again, the magick as dormant and cold as ice. Yet when she opened her eyes, there, poking through the sand, was a tiny red flower.

Hope. She nearly choked on it, tracing the petals with her fingers and breathless with the beauty of it.

If only she could control this…this thing within her! If only she could make the flowers bud and the trees bloom whenever she wished! The whales and dolphins would return, the fish would wax plentiful, and the children would not starve! Her people could flourish and rule the seas as they had once before.

_I should have known I would find you here. _

Nadine started, lurching to a kneel and spinning around. Her tail hovered above the flower, concealing it from sight. _Esli. _She didn't know what else to say, so she bit her lip and tried to calm the frantic hammering of her heart.

The Mer girl waited in the grotto's circular entrance, her thin, slender frame like a shadow. _You weren't with the other gardeners. Why?_

This question was easy enough to answer, though for Esli's sake she winced. _Mara and the other sea-witches were badgering us, as usual, about restoring their citadels and weaponries first._

Esli said nothing, but she drifted through the doorway, her sea-black hair wavering behind her like a flag. _Why here? _she asked finally, plopping down and flexing her tail. Her eyes glittered violet in the blue-grey dimness, a light unto themselves. Many a confession she had unnerved out of Nadine, but not now. This place and its history—its sorrow and its secrets—were Nadine's alone.

She shrugged and doodled a dolphin in the sand with her finger. It came out looking more like a shark, and she made a face and smudged it out. _It's solitary._

_ And don't tell me you don't enjoy the history of the place. Nothing like a civil war to add to the records._

_ What records? _Nadine snapped before she could constrain herself. She flushed, whispering, _So many died here, Esli, and so much was lost. Our people's legends and past—_

Esli interrupted her, voice sharp as shark teeth. _Many die, everywhere. And there will be more lost, Nadine, than our past, if we cannot defeat the humans. You think starvation is cruel, but there are far worse things. _She stopped. _Anyway, I did not come here to argue with you about history and such. You've been summoned._

Nadine stiffened. _What for?_

_ One of the Queen's guards was killed in a minor rebel attack—do not fear_, she said, her tone lazy and indifferent, _the rebels were all executed. _A shiver coursed down Nadine's spine. _As the Queen needs all the protection she can get from those she trusts, the Vizier decided on you to be his replacement._

The Vizier. She should have known. Nadine was all too aware of the flower hidden beneath the fluttering gauze of her fins. The Vizier suspected her, and if he knew, she would be nothing better than his weapon against the sea-witches, who, like Nadine herself, questioned the extent of his power over the queen.

_You should be happy, _Esli went on._ You won't have to do all the boring gardening._

Nadine ignored her, struck by a sudden premonition. _Which guard?_

Esli glanced at her, brows twitching with surprise. _Oh. I don't know. Wait—it was… Rurriel? Yes, I believe that was his name. _She shrugged, but her eyes held a strange glint. _It happens. At least the queen is safe._

_ Yes_. The word echoed hollow even in Nadine's ears. Rurriel. Her stomach knotted, vaulting with nausea. But she swallowed the cry battering against her teeth and coiled her tail to keep the scales from shedding.

They sat there without saying anything, Esli inspecting her nails, Nadine staring at her hands as they clenched and unclenched. Rurriel had been her first love, though at merely sixteen winters old, Nadine knew she understood little of the word.

But he had joked with her and laughed a lot, yet never at her, and he had never mocked the scars across her stomach that made it bulge in places. He had picked her flowers despite the Head Gardener scowling at him and yelling at him not to. _What are flowers good for, if they cannot be shared? _he had asked before tickling Nadine's tail with his fins and startling a smile from her.

Indeed. She swallowed. She should be sharing her gift, offering it for use to her people.

If only she hadn't seen what they would use it for.

_Let's leave, _Esli said abruptly, hauling herself up and curling toward the entrance. _There are too many memories here._

Nadine followed, glancing only once over her shoulder. The little red flower swayed, its petals like bloodied fingers, in a tiny slant of sunlight.

* * *

><p>The Dark Seas lay on the outermost reaches of the Mer Valley, a plain of white sand surrounded by undersea mountains on three sides, and the Royal's Reef shelf on the last. Very few Mer dared wander into its waters, and even fewer ventured beyond. Nadine had lived on the precipice between the Dark Seas and the Beyond; when she was younger, she had wondered and listened to her father's stories about the beasts that lurked there and the treasures long lost to its abyss.<p>

_The treasures of the greatest Mer warriors lie out there, _he had said. _Someday, I want to find them._

_ In your dreams, _her mother said, laughing. Yet there had been a longing in her voice, for something more, something beyond the smear of war.

Nadine stared at the mountains inching across the seascape, towering so high they almost seemed to touch the surface and the sun. Their shadow fell across the valley, and she shivered from the chill.

Esli was already far ahead of her, her scales blinking in the watery light. _Come on, Nadine!_

Can't keep the Vizier waiting. Or Telm. Nadine scowled. She loses Rurriel forever, and it's only business. Esli's away from Telm for a moment, and it's all hurrying to return to him.

So she dawdled, because she knew it bothered Esli and because it was about the only form of defiance she had the courage to undertake—and the only kind she could get away with. Political dissenters and soldiers suspected of treason were executed, while friends that veered too far into sympathy for the other side vanished from their beds.

Nadine lingered over the seafloor, following the path of a single despondent sea slug. Her stomach grumbled. She was reaching to grab it when another hand snatched it first. She glanced up into the flashing amber eyes of a Mer child. Her heart panged. The little girl's hair was nothing more than thin, straggling wisps of gold around hollowed eyes and full lips chapped by starvation.

_Hello_, Nadine murmured. _What's your name? What's your tribe? _She glanced at the girl's tail, but it was bright orange-red, and she knew she was being stupid. It was old-fashioned to think that the Mer only married within their tribe; over the years leading up to the war, there had been so much intermarriage that tail colours meant nothing anymore.

The girl's eyes narrowed, and she hugged the sea slug to her chest. _You're a soldier, aren't you?_

Nadine showed the girl her arm, bare of the warrior's brand. _No._

_ Not yet, anyway. Then you'll be just like them. _The child jerked her head toward Esli, who had stopped and whirled around, hair snapping like a whip. _You'll be fighting the humans and forgetting about us._

_ We're not at war with the humans. _But the words tasted like lies in Nadine's mouth. If they weren't at war now, they soon would be.

The little girl knew it, too. She scowled, stuck out her tongue, and zipped away to a little driftwood hut. Another face peeked out the doorway, before the little girl ducked inside and slammed the door shut.

_Are you finished making friends? _Esli asked, crossing her arms. _They'd just as soon kill you, you know._

Nadine stared at the hut, her chest yawning and sore. Why did she feel so, so… rejected?

_It's sad, _she whispered, hugging herself as she turned away, _how much we focus on fighting the humans, when— _She stopped herself.

Esli glared at her. _If we don't unite to bring the humans down, there will be civil war again_, she snapped. _But I don't expect someone from the Dolphin Tribe to understand politics._

Nadine bristled. Maybe not your kind of politics, she thought, but stayed quiet. Being underestimated was a way of life, and, in a way, it was a blessing. If they all thought she was stupid, they wouldn't discover her secret.

Yet, part of her wanted someone to know, someone she could confide in. Esli was her only friend, but she was too close to Telm for Nadine's comfort. Besides, friendship didn't mean very much anymore. Friends had betrayed each other throughout the civil war—and despite what the Vizier and the queen said, Nadine knew it wasn't over.

* * *

><p>The Coral Castle was a ghost of what it had once been. Its dilapidated ruins pierced the sea like the point of a rusted sword. Looking at it made Nadine's heart hurt. Nyla had told her stories of the glory days, of gardens bursting with flowers and octopi slithering between the windows. Sharks had drifted from room to room, fed table scraps and nuzzling the princess's fins.<p>

Then the civil war had happened, and now the princess was a queen, and the castle was a prison. Nadine felt its tug like the heaviness of seaweed wraps binding her wrists. She rubbed them just to make sure she was free.

Esli passed the guards posted at the yawning doorway without a glance. Nadine slowed, inspecting each face. Most stared straight ahead, but one caught her eye and shook his head. It was all she needed. Rurriel had left no scales behind for mementos to the mourners—he had simply melted into foam and curled to the surface, gone forever.

Nadine nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Like the Crystal-Keepers' grotto, the castle was silent. But it was a different kind of silence. The grotto had been frozen in time, untouched, indifferent to what lay ahead. It was a refuge for those who grieved the past and wanted to wallow in their sorrows a little while longer. The castle stood breathless in anticipation, a shark awaiting its time to attack.

Esli twisted through the castle's crumbled halls, massive chunks missing from the walls. Guards were posted on either side of each hole. Nadine counted five gaps in just the one passage leading from the entrance to the queen's private courtroom. No wonder she was in desperate need of more warriors.

She bit back a snort. She was no fighter—for many reasons, most of which she preferred not to think about. But the reason she had been 'demoted' to rebuilding duties, to tending the fish and plants in the Queen's Dome, was because the first time she had wielded a weapon, she had nearly poked the Vizier's eye out. Part of her wished she hadn't missed.

So why, she wondered, out of all the remnant of the Mer he could boss about, did he choose _her_? The answer was too obvious for comfort.

She stopped in the middle of the passageway. Unlike human palaces, those of the Mer have no floor, as they do not have the feet necessary to use them. So when Nadine paused, she began to sink toward the sand below.

Fingers caught her elbow, jerking her upright. A shudder coursed through her at the familiar hand, and she forced herself not to rip out of its grasp. _Steady. _The voice was low, quiet, the sort of voice that had once soothed sharks and bridled them without fear.

_There you are. _Esli approached, cocking a brow at the boy beside Nadine. _Where's your father, Telm? I've brought him the newest recruit. _

Nadine glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction. Telm's brow furrowed and the corners of his handsome mouth twitched. _With the queen. As usual._

_ What are they talking about?_

_ How should I know? _he snapped. _He tells me nothing._

For once, Esli seemed contrite. She bit her lip and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes focussed on the sea beyond the holes in the wall. _Should we go ahead and get her branded? _she asked.

Irritation pinched Nadine. She wanted to remind Esli that she was right here, that she wasn't a child to be talked over.

Telm shrugged. _Might as well. I'm sure that's one action we might do independently without his believing we're trying to usurp his authority._

Nadine stiffened. She would much rather wait. But almost as though he sensed her reluctance, Telm's fingers dug into her arm. _It's just a brand, Nadine. Get over it._

She gritted her teeth and swallowed the words biting her tongue.

So they dragged her out to the training plains, where they marked her with sword and sea-fire. She screamed and thrashed, tail lunging in a wild attempt to inflict as much pain as she was suffering. But Telm held her down, his weight pressing on her stomach and choking the breath out of her.

All the while, she wondered when she would ever get a choice.

When it was over, Esli leaned back, setting the branding tools aside. _That wasn't so difficult, was it? _Her tone, certainly patronizing, was almost mocking.

Nadine traced the mark carved into her skin, hissing through her teeth at the pain. Two sets of Mer fins sprouted from a straight line struck through the middle of the brand, meant to signify that the warrior was now dedicated to the queen.

_The oath. _Telm touched her hand. She was surprised how gentle his fingers could be, when they weren't pushing her around or down into the dirt.

Nadine's tongue felt heavy in her mouth. With difficulty, she recited the pledge of fealty: _To the queen, my heart, my sword. To my kin, my scales, my fins. If I ever this oath break, kill me for my honour's sake._

Telm leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and the ritual was over. Nadine's only succour was that now, she was just like her father had been—a guard, even though his allegiance had been by choice and not by desperation.

_Now, _Esli said, and her eyes glinted, _my favourite part. Weapons! _She and Telm brought Nadine to the armoury, a carefully-guarded room stockpiled with glimmering scabbards and weapons confiscated from shipwrecks on the Royal's Reef.

Nadine grabbed the first weapon that caught her eye—a human dagger with a blood-red stone embedded in its hilt. Something about it sparked her fancy, like a pleasant memory she just couldn't recall. With it, she received armour fashioned from braided seaweed and clamshells.

_There, _Esli said. _You look like a warrior, at least._

She didn't feel like one. Esli knew it, too. Nadine could see the disappointed flicker in her gaze, the barest trembling of her shoulders in a deep-hearted sigh.

Telm looked from one to the other. _Where did you get your scars, Nadine?_

Nadine started at the unexpected question. Staring down at the faint white lines that clawed across her stomach, she found herself without an answer. _I…I don't remember._

Esli glared at him. _You shouldn't ask nosy questions!_

_Unlike you, I have to! _he shot back.

Esli glowered at him.

What were they talking about? Nadine glanced between them, eyes narrowing. Esli didn't look at her as she said, _Report here first thing in the morning. The Vizier will oversee your training._

_ Esli—_Nadine stopped, uncertain what she wanted to ask. She thought of the way Telm and Esli seemed to communicate underneath and between their words, a hidden meaning in every sentence. Her stomach twisted. Once, when they were younger, she had thought she and Esli might have been that close. But that had been when Nyla was around, and…

She frowned at the hole in her memory. Someone else had been around, someone who had twined her and Esli closer, had made them almost sisters. She could feel it, just as she felt her parents' histories in the shattered shells of the Dark Seas. Her mind grasped, fumbling through the perpetual current of memory that never stops, only circles and circles one's soul, dizzying and powerful.

Nothing. The memory eluded her, a ship blown further out to sea than she could reach. Panic gripped her. There were already so many uncertainties in this world—she didn't want more of them! Turning around so Esli couldn't see the fear in her face, Nadine set out for home.

* * *

><p>Home was a humble shack of driftwood. Nothing differentiated it from all the others in the tribe other than the lone red flower blossoming by its door—Rurriel's gift. She knelt down and stroked its petals, reminded of the softness of his lips against her cheek. What might have been—<p>

She clamped down on the thought, thrusting it away from her. Too much. Too much grief. She sucked in a breath, relished the salty tang of sea. Gulping it down, she closed her eyes and waited for it to cleanse her, to relieve her of the anguish twisting through her veins. Her body felt like it was burning from the inside out, her scales as though they would crack into pieces like seashells.

She dove through her doorway, landing on the sand-floor with a thud. Her hammock hung against the far wall, but she ignored its beckoning. Curling into a ball, she braced herself as her tail quivered and flexed, her muscles tight and flaming. For humans, sorrow hollows us out. For the Mer, it fills them with fire that burns again and again, agony that forgives their lack of tears.

Nadine sat there shuddering and shedding for a long time, until the anguish slithered into exhaustion and finally slipped into sleep. And dreams.

_The rebel held Rurriel's head in its hands, his blood staining the sea before bubbling into foam. His body melted until all that was left was the crimson stain on the rebel's hands. The Mer looked up, eyes flaring. _You're next_, she said._

_ Nadine backed away, sword slipping from her grasp. _I cannot kill you. How can you—

Then die.

_Pain. Nadine looked down. A dagger stuck out of her side, hilt winking in the sun-soaked sea. Darkness edged her vision, but she didn't need to look up to know her killer had been a child—a child with flashing amber eyes and chapped lips._

She woke up choking on horror and fear, tongue curled in her mouth to keep the vomit at bay. Rubbing her scales and glancing out her window into the darkness, she tried to banish the dream from her thoughts. But it haunted her still, poking and prodding her in the deepest places.

Had Rurriel been killed because he refused to fight a child?

Would she be forced to kill a child?

Nadine circled her hut, dragging herself through the sand. The grains grated against her scales, rubbing them sore. Was this how desperate they had become, when they killed their own future? Was this how things were supposed to get better? The royalists had won the war—it had been the rebels who slaughtered her village, who were supposed to be the villains. And yet, it was the queen's army who hoarded the Dome and decided who received rations. It was the queen's army who focussed more on their hatred of the humans than the needs of their own people.

Nadine's fingers dug into the sand. It was the humans who murdered their children, the humans who were the scum of the earth. It wasn't supposed to be this way—the Mer were supposed to be better than this.

_Honour is the act of serving others no matter what pain it brings to you. Honour is what makes a man. _Her father's words, once accompanied by tickles and laughter.

_Or woman,_ her mother added.

_Honour is what makes a hero. _

Nadine glanced at her coral pink scales—the colour of a flower, of a delicacy. Of something that had to fight to survive. She wondered if she could ever be brave enough to live with honour—and accept its cost.


	3. The Unwilling Warrior

**Chapter Two: The Unwilling Warrior**

Morning seeped gold into the sea, the surface glimmering finer than pearl. Nadine never tired of staring at it, though to its ceiling she dared not go. Unlike many of the queen's guards, she had seen the land of men, and barely survived to tell the tale.

She didn't like to think about it, or the means through which she had escaped. Yet as she travelled to the palace to report for her training, heavy thoughts muddled her mind. It was a matter of which evil she would rather consider—one she might forget about, or one that would haunt her future.

She closed her eyes and sighed. Rurriel's face hovered in her vision, green eyes and wide smile.

_Green eyes..._ Shaking her head and trying to dislodge the memory beating at her temple, she flexed her tail in an effort to quicken her pace.

As she approached the training fields, she passed the Queen's Dome. She slowed, stopping to watch the gardeners in their work. Sea magick engulfed the dome in a protective wave, shielding the plants from rebel destruction and the fish from human nets. Her gaze trailed the dance of the wavering red _sagari_ trees, their leaves scratching the outer perimeter like claws.

The restorers fluttered to and fro, shooing baby sharks out of their way as they struggled to ease life out of death. Other than that in the Dome, there was nearly no wildlife left.

Nadine almost swam over to the entrance and knocked on the door. It was too early for the sea-witches to rise, so many of her fellows started work before the sea grew light in order to avoid as much of their petulance as possible. She should have been one of them, coaxing sea-flowers from their sleep and singing them into health.

Her brand throbbed like lips after a kiss. She rubbed her fingers across it, frowning. There was no choice—just duty; duty to her queen, to her people. If duty said she must abandon one job for another, she had to do so. That was how it worked, if she wanted to survive to see the dawning of a new age.

And she did want to survive, to see the sea unfurl its true colours once more. Perhaps… perhaps even to be the hero who brought the sea's glory home on her shoulders, to be the Mer brave enough and clever enough to find the Book of Creation…

She banished the idea as soon as it entered her mind, laughing at herself. The Book was a myth, a hope whispered by elders to their tribes to give them something, anything, to believe in. Still… it was nice to hope, sometimes.

One of the Mer within the Dome noticed her watching and waved her over. She recognized Adna, a pretty young Mer girl who disliked Mara and the other sea-witches as much as Nadine. Adna pressed her face against the Dome's wall, her lips and nose mashed like seaweed pulp. _You can come in, you know, _she said. _Don't stand out there like a spy. It gives me the chills._

Nadine traced a finger across the shimmering glaze of the wall. _I'm not coming._

_What? You don't mean— _Adna's gaze fell on the curling welt of Nadine's soldier brand. _Oh._

Nadine nodded.

_So you're a solider now. I wonder how _that _will go._

_Who knows? Maybe I'll stab the Vizier in the eye and get demoted again._

Adna paled, and Nadine scolded herself for being so flippant-tongued.

They stared at each other in silence, Nadine flushing for her error and Adna gnawing on her lip. Her eyes darted, fish scale silver and frightened. Her brother had been part of the rebel cause; but, unlike the sea-witches, he had had no magick the queen could use and the Vizier could manipulate. He had been executed after the royalists regained their power, his sister left to grovel for mercy.

_Well, good luck_, Adna whispered, her tail drooping. _I hope—_She paused. _I hope they are good to you. _With one last perfunctory smile, she returned to her flowers. Nadine rubbed her pounding temple and tried to ignore the ominous twist of her stomach.

When she reached the training fields behind the castle, the guards had already filed from their barracks. They wandered about, stretching and jabbing half-heartedly at one another. A few whispered amongst themselves, filling the seas with their high-pitched murmurs.

Esli was by herself, staring out beyond the castle, toward the mountains that shielded the Dark Seas in their gloom. What out there captured her attention? Nadine floated up behind her in time to hear the deepest, most mournful sigh breeze through her lips.

Nadine's heart dropped at the sound, so full of longing and despair that she hardly knew what to think. She was about to say something when Esli turned around, startling as the scabbard of her sword grated across Nadine's scales. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, and for the first time in a long while she was without a sharp remark.

Then she pressed her lips together and stared over Nadine's shoulder, the atmosphere gone cold. Nadine glanced behind her. The knot in her stomach coiled tighter, an octopi curled up and heavy.

From the ruins of the castle's record room came the Vizier, the young head of the sea-witches, and the even younger queen. The soldiers fell silent, their faces alert and watchful.

_Welcome to all our new recruits_, the Vizier said, his smile long and thin. He nodded at Nadine, and all the warriors turned to stare at her. She flushed at their hard-eyed appraisal, their amazement coursing through the currents curling past her ear. The Vizier's gaze stayed on her long after the others' had all fallen away. She forced herself not to cower, to meet his gaze without a flinch. But all she wanted to do was wrap herself in seaweed and burrow beneath the sand, lost to time and tyrants. The intensity of his eyes made her feel as though he could see right through her, past her skin to the blue glow burdened in her chest.

The queen smiled at her, the pearl crown sliding down her brow. She didn't say a word, hovering behind the Vizier as he inspected the guards.

_You're looking thin, Danal. Be not afraid to swallow the entirety of your meals. The queen's warriors are aptly provided for, are they not? _He watched the guard, eyes narrowed. Danal gulped and nodded, the human bones braided into his hair clacking against each other.

The queen's lips trembled and her brow furrowed, yet when the Vizier asked her what she thought, she said, _You know best, certainly._

Anger surged in Nadine against the queen for allowing the Vizier to be in such complete control. She quashed it, however, so when the Vizier and the queen reached her, she could bow low without her quivering shoulders.

_Nadine Nandernine, _the Vizier commented. _It is wonderful to have you with us._

Nadine forced the words past her lips, and her anger against the queen turned on herself. _It is wonderful to be here. _She could feel Esli's eyes searing her spine. When she straightened, she noticed an odd look on the queen's face, something between pity and disturbance.

The Vizier interrupted before Nadine could probe her cousin's features further. _Esli._

_Yes? _The Mer girl swam up beside Nadine, their fins grazing.

_You will help her train._

Esli's lips twisted, but she gave a curt bow. The Vizier, the queen trailing behind, moved on to the other warriors. Mara lingered, her bright red scales pulsing the same sheen of blood that marked her eyes. _Would you like any help, Esli? _The question might have been innocent of itself, but the sneer that twisted it was anything but.

Esli glared. _I'm surprised you're up so early._

_I wouldn't miss a chance to show you that you should have stayed amongst your own kind, Esli. Sea-witches aren't common, throwaway warriors. You should have stayed with us and honed your magick._

Esli stared down at her fins, clenching her jaw. _The sea-witches were wrong in the civil war, _she said. _Why should I have anything to do with you?_

Mara opened her mouth to protest, but Esli plunged on. _And you know that we only surrendered to the royalists so we would survive. How can you know that the Vizier will trust—or need—you much longer? If he ever finds what he seeks… _She looked up, a vicious smile gnarling her mouth. _You will no longer be necessary._

Mara's pretty face mottled purple, her eyes flashing, her lips pursing. Her fingers curled into claws. Her tail lashed, her fins a whisper through the sand.

Nadine's heart dropped, her pulse pounding against her eardrums.

Esli froze.

All three hung over the field, Esli and Mara staring each other down, Nadine's muscles coiling in fear and anticipation.

Mara lunged, a snarl ripping from her throat. Esli lurched back, tail pumping and arms flying. There was a shout from behind them. Nadine's sight blurred into a convulsion of crimson and blue, blood and ocean threatening to consume her. She threw herself forward, knocking Esli to the ground as Mara's hands wrapped around her throat.

Nadine choked, thrashing and scratching at Mara's face. The other girl hissed and released her, whirling back to her prey. Nadine tossed her hair from her eyes and snatched Mara's fins, yanking her to the sand. Mara shrieked in outrage. _You want to fight me, you stupid little _gardener_? Then fight!_

_Nadine—_Esli sputtered. _Stop it, you little idiot—_

Her words were lost to the roar in Nadine's ears as Mara yanked her upright by the hair. The sea-witch's grip was stronger than weed that tangled around your tail and dragged you to your death. Nadine twisted, dragging her fins across Mara's tail. A few scales ripped open to expose the tender blubber beneath, but it was nothing compared to Mara's attack. She slashed Nadine's fins and tail and drew her claw-like fingers across Nadine's stomach, reopening old wounds that festered and oozed. Nadine's blood began to steam, the pain zipping through her like lightning through water.

Nadine gasped for breath, blinded by the blood dripping into her eyes and the dizzy sensation whirling through her head. Instinct took over. She rammed into Mara's body with all her weight, pinning the slender sea-witch to the sand. When Mara could no longer slash, her claws turned into fists that pummeled and bruised. Nadine focussed on keeping Mara down, panting with the effort. Her chest was stretching, the power within no longer asleep. Panic mingled with pain as Nadine struggled to keep it inside. If it burst forth now, all would know her secret. Mara would turn into her overseer, a constant tormentor.

A fist knocked Nadine's cheek. She flew back, landing on the sand with a thump that reverberated from the top of her head, through her neck and right down to the tips of her fins. Mara jumped on top, digging her elbow into Nadine's ribcage.

Faintly, Nadine could hear the queen begging them to stop. She could feel the cold currents gusting past her cheek, murmuring of death and destruction.

_That is _enough_. _The Vizier's voice cut through the chaos. Suddenly Nadine could breathe again. Hands wrapped around her arms, pulling her up. Voices, quiet and soothing, trickled through her consciousness. But it was darkness that won, darkness that pushed her down again, darkness that overwhelmed everything.

* * *

><p><em>That was ridiculous! <em>Esli snapped, tail whipping back and forth as she paced the Vizier's private apartment. The Vizier watched her as he sat at his table, his head cocked to the side. A smile crept across his handsome face. She shot him a murderous glance, though her fingers shook. _Why didn't you say something earlier?_

He shrugged. _I wanted to see if her power would manifest itself._

_I already told you about the flower I saw in the grotto!_

He sneered. _Flower. Sea-witches can make flowers grow. What I'm looking for is something far more powerful than a sea-witch's little tricks. Something that has been around since Time began._

_Well, then why don't you just ask her? Why make me follow her around like a little spy? I hate having to pretend to be her friend! _Part of her wanted to be more, but you couldn't build a relationship on lies. Besides, the other half of her balked at the notion of being Nadine's friend. Nadine, cowardly little Nadine!

Who fought for you, somewhere within her whispered.

_Pretend? _The Vizier's brows rose. _Considering your relationship with Nathanael— _Esli stiffened. _Oh, you don't like me bringing _that _up. I see. Anyways, considering what you felt for him, I would have thought you would be kinder toward his poor little sister._

_Adopted sister, _Esli said automatically. _Adopted sister. _It made her feel less guilty. What would _he_ say if he knew how she treated Nadine? Esli shook her head. It didn't matter. He had loved her long before Nadine had entered the picture—they had grown up together, surfing waves and hitching rides on sharks. Then Nadine had come, orphaned and inexperienced. She had become their tagalong. But no matter how much Nathanael doted on his sister, he had loved Esli best. She jutted out her chin.

He loved you best, she told herself.

The Vizier's laugh startled her from her reverie. _You're still lovesick after that traitor, aren't you? Not surprising, since you're a sea-witch. Hmm, maybe she _is _one of you—_

_Impossible_, Esli snapped. _The Crystal-Keepers hated the sea-witches._

_Must have given you quite the pleasure to destroy them, then._

Esli flinched. _Not all of us were rebels—_

_Of course. _The Vizier nodded, his tone falsely sympathetic. _But not all of them were royalists, either. Which side were _you _on? I would hate to have to suggest to the queen that perhaps your allegiance lies more with your sea-witch sisters than…_

Esli went quiet, gooseflesh shuddering up her arms. Sometimes she forgot just how powerful the man before her was. With one word, he could do to her what he had done to Nathanael's mother. He could strip her of everything—her past, her present… her hope for the future. In that moment, she remembered just how much she feared him—and how much she wanted to kill him. _What do you want from me? _Esli whispered. _I've already given—_

_Keep watching her, and report everything back to me. I have a plan in place that may help flush her out._

_If she is what you want her to be, _Esli murmured, _it's dangerous to keep her around._

He shook his head. _It'd be more dangerous to let her go._

* * *

><p>Nadine woke to softness at the back of her head, a sensation so familiar yet unfamiliar that it was startling. Above her, the coral had been etched by coral-patchers into intricate designs of dolphins and whales, octopi and sea-flowers. It was a dying trade. The colours and the dazzling beauty of it all sizzled between the spurts of pain that shot through her limbs.<p>

She struggled to sit up. A gentle hand pushed her down. _Stay, cousin. You will be doing no fighting for weeks. _The voice sounded relieved. Nadine blinked and glanced over into the queen's pale, gaunt face.

_Elealeh_, she whispered. Was it all right for her to call the queen by her first name, as she had done when they were children? It must have been, for the queen had called her cousin. Nadine couldn't remember the last time the queen had acknowledged their kinship.

Elealeh smiled, the corners of her eyes wrinkling. It unnerved Nadine to see her looking so old, when she was barely two winters ahead of herself.

_I thought Mara had killed you for a moment, _the queen said. _I wanted to execute her, but Ithamar told me we couldn't risk upsetting the sea-witches. _She sighed, stroking Nadine's hair from her brow. _You and Ithamar are the only ones I can trust._

Nadine wanted to tell her that the Vizier couldn't be trusted, but she held back. The queen wouldn't believe her, and after losing her father and twelve brothers in the Battle of the Coral Castle, she needed _someone_. The Vizier had saved the princess's life that day and crowned her queen the next. Nadine knew the Elealeh wouldn't take kindly to anyone who slandered her saviour.

_How long have I been here? _she asked.

_One day and one night. Mara's bruised you up quite a bit. _The queen clucked her tongue and adjusted the seaweed wrap around Nadine's temple. _I can't understand why Ithamar thinks you would make a good soldier._

_Perhaps I'll be the training dummy, _Nadine whispered. _After all, Rurriel's gone. _She winced at the acid in her voice.

The queen's fingers paused, trembling against the bandage. _I am _so _sorry, Nadine, _she said quietly. _If I could have saved him—_

Nadine shook her head and closed her eyes. _Forgive me, _she whispered. _I'm just tired, is all._

_Of course. Get some rest._ She began to sing, the words weaving through Nadine's thoughts and into her soul, settling into her bones and beckoning sleep.

_I sing a song of the sea_

_Of lonely desert wanderings _

_Of fin and tail, ship and sail_

_ And love that forever prevails._

_ I sing a song of the sea_

_Of losing what was everything_

_Taken to a land of burning sun_

_Where suffering has just begun._

_You may cut off my tail_

_Or take my precious scales_

_But you will never win a wish._

_For a Mer is always a Mer_

_From the sea we were born_

_And to the sea we will always return._

* * *

><p><em>The human boy with the bright green eyes stood over her. Heat dripped from the sky, wrinkling her scales and searing the blubber beneath. Her lungs heaved with every breath, choking on air so dry and crackling.<em>

_He cocked his head, curious._

_She was trapped, trapped. She would die here in this cage, separated from family and the sea. Die here, to crumble into dust, without even the ocean to remember her. Gripping the iron bars, she struggled to gather the strength to snarl._

_The scent of the sea tingled in her nostrils. So close, so close…_

_The cage clattered to the ground._

* * *

><p>Nadine startled awake with a gasp. Beside her, the queen rolled over, the seaweed-braided blanket wrinkling under her weight. <em>Are you all right?<em> A sea-fire light glowed on the bedside table, illuminating the guards at the door. Neither moved a muscle. Nadine wondered if they were listening; if they were the Vizier's favourites, hand-picked for their fighting _and_ eavesdropping skills.

She swallowed. _Only a nightmare_, she whispered.

The queen nodded. Her fins patted Nadine's tail and she squeezed her hand. _Do you wish to talk about it?_

Nadine shook her head. _No._

The queen paused before whispering, _All right. Good-night. _Too late, Nadine realized that perhaps the queen had asked because she had nightmares that haunted her too.

* * *

><p>As soon as she was well enough to move yet too pained to fight, Nadine determined to be the queen's aide. It wasn't healthy that all her advice came from one source—before the war, the King had gathered a Council consisting of the elders of the twelve Mer tribes. The Vizier had subtly avoided reconvening the Council with the excuse that the elders were all dead, or turned traitor.<p>

One morning while the queen helped Nadine to rise, Nadine posed the question. _Perhaps the Council should be brought back._

Elealeh paused in tying a string of pearls around her tail. _For what purpose? _Her fingers fluttered to twist her light brown-red hair into a knot.

_If the kingdom is to continue its rebuilding process, _Nadine said, choosing her words carefully, _the tribes must be in complete unison. Gathering representatives from each one will help you to sort out what needs to be done where to ensure all are kept happy._

Elealeh pursed her lips. _I suppose I could ask Ithamar—_

_Or you could surprise him. I'm sure he would be very pleased to see you growing into your position. Having the Council reconvene at _your _order would help establish your rule, as well._

Elealeh nodded, tearing the knot from her hair. The long shiny locks tumbled around her shoulders, and she raised her chin, a stony look in her light green eyes. _Thank you, cousin, _she said.

Nadine smiled. The guilt that prickled her for being so cunning in a world where the queen could trust so few was assuaged by relief. Even this small victory somewhat protected her cousin from the all-consuming influence of the Vizier, and whatever secrets infested his mind.

* * *

><p>Advising the queen in certain matters helped distract Nadine from other pressures bearing down on her. Throughout the weeks of her incapacitation, she neither saw nor heard any hint of Esli. It was as though Nadine had risen to the surface never to return.<p>

She masked her hurt by making herself not only Elealeh's aide, but also her companion. When the Vizier arrived to steal the queen's attention, Nadine invented an excuse to force her to stay—or for Nadine to go along.

_The Council awaits you, _the Vizier said, leaning against the doorframe. The queen lay sprawled across her bed, braiding her hair with flying fingers. Her eyes kept darting around the room, focusing on nothing, blinded by her own inner turmoil.

Nadine rose from where she had been weaving seaweed into rope, wincing at the spasms of pain that rushed through her tail.

_Only the queen._

_She,_ Elealeh squeaked. The Vizier turned to her, eyes narrowed. Elealeh swallowed and sat up, back rigid. _She may come._

Nadine met the Vizier's thinly disguised glare with a polite smile that masked her own trembling within. The queen looped an arm through hers, and together they followed the Vizier out of the room.


	4. Of Hope Sings Heartbreak

**Chapter Three: Of Hope Sings Heartbreak**

The council room was stifling. Torch glow spread across the walls, illuminating the pocks and grooves that reminded Nadine of eyes. The queen had chosen a tiny chamber off the Grand Hall in which to hold the meeting, as it was one of the few that had remained intact after the Battle of the Coral Castle.

Nadine gnawed at her nails, gaze flickering from one face to another. Most she recognized, if only from afar—Serna, one of the oldest Sea Sisters, the head women of the tribes; Jialel, another Sister… and Mara. Of course. The sea-witches had to have their representative.

Mara met her gaze, her upper lip curling. A stone settled in Nadine's stomach.

The queen sat at the head of the table, the Vizier by her side. He had claimed the seat before Nadine could grab it, and she hadn't wanted to make a scene in front of the most powerful Mer.

Now as she watched Elealeh swallow and search for words, she wished she'd had the courage not to care.

As Nadine had expected, Serna spoke first. Her low voice grated, shell against stone. _Why have you called us from our duties?_

The queen glanced at Nadine, brow furrowed. Before either could speak, the Vizier did. _I have a proposition._

_I'm sure you do. _Serna glared at him; he smiled back, as cool and calm as a shark. The old Mer woman's shoulders stiffened. She drew herself up, her long moon-white braids sliding across her arms.

_What is it? _Jialel asked, leaning forward. She was too young and her tribe too isolated to have much experience with the Vizier; from what the queen had told Nadine, Jialel had only come to power because the rest of her tribe were children, orphans with no one to lead them but a girl hardly much older than themselves.

Just like the rest of the kingdom, Nadine thought, tensing. She watched the Vizier from the corner of her eye, trying to avoid catching his attention but too intrigued to look away.

The Vizier sat back, resting his head on his arms with a lazy smile. Serna inhaled sharply. Nadine sank lower into her seat, dread tickling her fins.

_The _Merteri _amulets._

A cold blanket of silence soaked the chamber, along with a chill that sank deep into Nadine's bones. Insanity, she thought. Utter insanity.

_What for? _Serna choked out.

Jialel sat blinking and scratching her head. She looked from Serna to the Vizier and back again. Then, blushing, she murmured, _What—what are the… the… _Merteri _amulets?_

The Vizier nodded his head at Nadine. _I believe you can explain it better than I, can you not, daughter of the Crystal-Keepers? _Serna clenched her jaw. Jialel giggled nervously. Nadine half-rose in her seat as something within her surged, pushing and tearing at her skin.

Mara stared down at her hands, cheeks stained red.

_Yes, _Nadine choked out at last, past the grief and the anger pulsing across her tongue. She stood, fingers clenched at her sides, fins grazing the coral floor. Everyone turned to her, eyes black and searing. Waiting. For her to talk, to listen to her words. A strange sensation filled her—it wasn't just fear and it wasn't just suspicion. Perhaps… gratitude? In some sick, twisted way, she was glad he had pointed her out, because it meant they _saw_, and now they would _hear_, and maybe, just maybe, one of them would _care_.

She poked herself. She had to focus, had to shove the thoughts into words. It was so much easier one on one. The queen was so easy to persuade, to condescend to… she couldn't do that with these Mer. She winced. These Mer were power, more powerful than whatever was hiding in her. They were confident, certain. Her power… it wasn't even really hers, and it was erratic.

Consistency. That was all she wanted—stability. She bit her tongue. She couldn't tell them that. What was she thinking? Of everything that was nothing.

_Well? _Serna's tail thumped against the floor.

_Long ago, _Nadine squeaked. Jialel tittered, then yelped as Serna pinched the back of her hand. The Vizier's lips twitched. Nadine flushed. What a pleasant beginning. She'd strike fear through their hearts; if they didn't drop down dead from terror, she didn't know what she'd do.

Serna turned to the Vizier. _The child obviously cannot—_

_The _Merteri_, _Nadine said, _are the amulets of our ancestors. _Mer_ for sea, _teri_ for land. They consist of a combination of earth and sea magick. They were supposedly given to seven Mer lords, so they could act as ambassadors between the humans and us in the days when we could stand the sight of each other, if ever such times truly existed. During the Dark Seas War, they were used by the Seven, Mer warriors who walked the land as humans and who both brought intelligence and acted as assassins. _She paused, panting a little, trying to ignore how shell-struck she'd sounded. Nyla had teased her about listening more to the stories shells told than her adopted mother's polite requests for Nadine to fix her hammock.

The Council stared at her, mouths agape. Serna was the first one to react. _And what's your name?_

_Nadine Nandernine, _the Vizier said smoothly, patting Serna's hand. The older Mer woman yanked it back, scowling.

_I wasn't asking you, _she said. With narrowed eyes, her attention returned to Nadine. _How do you know so much about the old ways? You're too young to remember, too young to be interested in the affairs of the past._

Nadine's mouth went dry, though she felt a prickle of irritation at the old Mer's assumptions. Her throat closed. The Vizier's expression hardened. _I—I come from the Crystal-Keeper clan, _Nadine said at last. She wanted to add that her earliest memories were of sitting on the floor of her parents' hut, listening to stories and committing them to memory. But she didn't. It might lead to questions, some of which she wouldn't be able to answer, because even her memories had holes…

Serna glanced at Mara. The sea-witch had been strangely silent. Now she looked up, lips quivering, but she didn't say a word. _I suppose you don't know what happened to the Key, then, _Serna said. _When the rebels and the sea-witches attacked. _Mara flinched.

_No, _Nadine said, shifting and wishing she could sit down. Elealeh's eyes had lit up at the mention of the Key, and the Vizier looked so smug that Nadine knew something terrible was coming.

_Shame._

_Not a shame. _Mara rammed her fist against the table. Nadine jumped, then took the opportunity to slam herself down in her seat. Nobody told her to rise again, much to her relief. _We don't need the Key—and we don't need the Book of Creation, either._

_That's where you're wrong. _The Vizier's hand crawled from Serna to the queen, wrapping around Elealeh's fingers with a tight squeeze. Nadine's teeth gritted. Serna's nostrils flared. Jialel and the others exchanged glances, some with puckered brows, the rest with barely concealed scowls. _Do you think we'll be able to rebuild with the humans constantly picking at our resources? And what about those, even within our own circle of… friends… who are growing antsy? _His gaze trailed from Mara to Serna. Mara went white; Serna puffed out her chest and curled her lip.

Then the Vizier's smile turned on Nadine. She froze, shoulders slumping in a vain effort to hide. She had never felt so naked than with his keen gaze upon her, his eyes poking and prodding, digging underneath her skin.

Yet whatever it was that slept inside her, it stayed quiet. Whatever he searched for, he didn't find it. There was no treachery in her, unless being a liar made her a traitor as well. She scratched at her brand, the flames of pain distracting her from the worry.

_And what will the Book do that the sea-witches cannot? _Mara snapped, eyes flashing.

_Other than give us a trustworthy ally?_

The veins in Mara's neck bulged; her eyes glowed. One of the burlier Mer men threw himself across the table, grabbing her wrist. She whirled with a hiss, and hot red sparks shot across his arm. He yelled, lurching back. A gross red burn splotched his skin. _You have no better ally than us_, she said. _We, who captured the sea's magick and know how to control it—_

_But it is not the most powerful magick of all, _the Vizier said, spreading his arms in a gesture of supplication. _The most powerful is that which made the sea's magick, that which might free us of all our enemies—and inner conflicts._

_Wouldn't that be nice, _Serna grumbled, but she crossed her arms. _Is this your little proposition, then? Send out Seven warriors to search out the Book of Creation—a suicide mission—that may be little more than chasing after a myth? _She snorted. _I may be old, but I am far past being stupid._

Nadine stared at her cousin, begging her to say something, anything to contradict the Vizier. But Elealeh was watching the Vizier, leaning into him as though she wasn't strong enough to support herself. Grow up! Nadine wanted to scream. This is your kingdom! Act like it, before he destroys us all!

_Forget about the Book, _Mara spat. _You want proof that my people are loyal? Lead us in a war against the humans—we'll wipe them out the way we—_She broke off. _We'll make them wish they had never existed, _she said.

Nadine choked. That was even worse! A war, when the Mer couldn't even feed themselves?

_And how is war supposed to save us? _Serna asked. _It may save us from each other, but only because we'll all be dead!_

_Shut up, you old hag! _Mara snarled. _Why do you think the rebels tried to overthrow the king in the first place? Because he'd rather be friends with the creatures that have been slaughtering us since time immemorial, because—_

_Quiet. _The Vizier's voice cut like a blade.

Mara faltered, pressing her lips so hard they burned white. She rubbed her forehead, tail lashing against the floor. _I—I didn't mean—_

_Of course you didn't._

_I—I like the Vizier's idea, _Jialel whispered. There was a murmur of uneasy agreement. Mara gripped the edge of the table.

Nadine rubbed her arms. Either a Book that gave the Vizier even more authority, or a war led by sea-witches. The queen bit her lip, gazing from the Vizier to Mara and back.

Mara leaned forward, voice pitched low. _I mean no disrespect, my queen, _she said. _But we need this war, if only to prevent a new one. Perhaps it will bring us unity, will make us prosperous. With the humans gone, we can follow the freshwater rivers, perhaps find inland seas of plenty—_

The Vizier guffawed.

_—but any war is better than chasing after old men's myths. We need all the warriors we can get—_

_Do you really think a war will save us? _The queen's question was so childlike, so desperate, that everyone stared down at the table. Perhaps they realized just how inexperienced a queen she was, how unused to the burden of responsibility. She had been the spoiled princess, the seventh child and only daughter of a wealthy king. Her brothers had been the warriors, the heirs to the throne. She had spent what little childhood she had in seemingly trivial pursuits—but at least she had been happy.

But now her father and brothers were gone. And if the queen didn't make a choice, the few Mer that remained might follow.

Nobody answered the queen's question. Elealeh sighed, tearing at her hair with her fingers. _Give me some time to make a decision, _she said.

After that, the Council could talk of nothing else, and soon dispersed. Long after they all were gone, Nadine sat alone in the chamber. What about restoring the sea? she wondered. Why couldn't they focus on that?

She didn't ask because she didn't know the answer. She pondered, because she wanted a different one than the truth.

War was just—easier. Killing shared enemies was simpler than forgiving the past and making friends of old ones. In a war, everyone—sea-witches or magickless Mer—was the same. In peacetime, one was obsolete and the other was cherished.

She had to help the queen, had to convince her—of something. Anything. Anything that would alleviate the weight bearing down on Nadine's chest, the desolation that tasted so sadly of hopelessness.

* * *

><p>She found the queen in bed, face buried in her pillows, scales scattered across the mattress. Perching on the edge of the bed, Nadine gathered the long silken strands of the queen's hair and began to braid, fingers deft and quick. In, out, in, out. The rhythmic motion, so much like the lap of waves, soothed them both. Soon Elealeh sat up, sweeping the scales off the sheets. They sparkled sunlight-sea green before rolling under the bed.<p>

_You must think me such a child, _Elealeh said with a trembling smile.

Nadine patted her hair. _Not as much a child as I. _The queen's shoulders lowered and the pucker of her brow smoothed. Nadine hesitated. There were so many questions she wanted answered, so many pleas building up inside. She felt as though a wave were pressing against her tongue. _You…you don't truly believe in the Book, do you?_

The queen picked at her braid, plucking strands of copper hair from their niches. _What a surprising question, coming from you, _she said. _Don't you believe in it?_

Nadine didn't know what to believe. She might have memorized the stories and the history, but that didn't mean she accepted all of them as unadulterated truth. Part of her strained to hope that the Book existed, that perhaps the past—and maybe the future—was not completely set in stone. But yet another part of her resisted, scolded her to think in the now and not in the dreams. She shrugged. _It seems… fantastical. A bit… crazy._

_Maybe we need a bit more crazy in this world. _The queen grabbed Nadine's hands and squeezed. _I know the sea-witches would rather have war than an impossible search for the Book, but… Can you imagine what we could do with it? We could rewrite history! My father, my brothers… _Her voice choked. _Rurriel…_

Nadine flinched. _What's done is done, _she said sharply, though her heart did not believe it. It pounded and danced, threatening to burst from her lips in song. Nadine had not sung since…since before Nyla's disappearance.

The queen shook her head. _We could rebuild with one word. We could… _She stopped, flushed, and turned away. _We could end the war, make peace between ourselves, destroy our enemies… the possibilities are endless!_

Peace between themselves. Did that mean Nadine would be forced to like the Vizier? She shuddered at the thought. But Esli. They… they could be true friends, sisters, the way Nadine had always wanted it. Her pulse quickened.

_But do you think you could get those who want a war to hold off until—_Nadine corrected herself—_if, the Book is found?_

_I have to try. I can't sign us all to a death sentence without first trying at life._

_We could focus on simply rebuilding, _Nadine said. _Without all this war and searching and—_

_There's only so much longer we can do that, Nadine. The human nets are straying closer. They must be getting as desperate for food on their coasts as we are. One day they'll find a way to fracture the dome, just as they found a way to nearly annihilate us during the Dark Seas War. We can't afford to simply wait—there's no time to rebuild in peace. It would take us years._

_So I guess it's settled then, _Nadine said, tail sagging. There was no way to win. It was either the Book, or another war.

_I guess so. _The queen shifted, sheets crinkling under her weight. _It's time to call the Seven._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: Thanks so much to MertleYuts for your wonderful reviews for every chapter, and Athena Goddess of the Wise for your feedback on chapter one. It's very much appreciated! Sorry that there was so much talking in this chapter; I promise that the action definitely picks up in the next one! I'm so excited to share it with you, but first, please review! <strong>_


	5. The Storm

**Author's Note: Thanks again to MertleYuts for all your amazing feedback! Please review, everyone! I promise that this chapter is A LOT more exciting than the last one! ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: The Storm<strong>

Air. It _burned_. Nadine gagged and stumbled, feet scrabbling across the rocks of the smallest of the No Man's Islands. A Merteri amulet swung at her neck, hitting her collarbone. She landed hard on her knees, pain springing through her aching legs. She groaned, fingers clenching as shells sliced her knuckles.

Gulls shrieked, arcing through the sky. After the initial shock of breathing human air, she realized how moist and clinging it was—as though it was beaded with sea water. Still, it was difficult to suck in breaths. No wonder the Vizier had required this training before sending the Seven off to certain death. If they had gone on land with no preparation whatsoever, they would have stuck out as much as humans in the sea.

Nadine rolled over and sat up, panting. At her toes, the surf sucked at the shore before reeling away. In the distance, she could make out the towering cliffs of the south country humans called _Ithanor._

"Ithanor," she said out loud, crinkling her nose at the odd-sounding name. Where was the musicality?

A squawk erupted from behind her, and Nadine jumped. Her heart pounding, she whirled around to face a large white gull. It cocked its head at her. "What was that for?" she snapped, wiping the sweat from her brow. She'd never realized how wet humans could get—but it wasn't a comfortable wet. It was hot and damp and sticky; it made her want to scratch her scales from the blubber.

It squawked again, and flapped its wings. A rush of air buffeted her face. Then, before she could react, it darted forward and snatched a string of squid flesh from her seaweed sack. She yelped and sprang to her feet, only to trip and fall flat on her face.

The bird shrieked its laughter, gulping down what was supposed to be her dinner for the rest of the day. On the way to the island, she and Esli had been attacked by a giant squid; Esli had stabbed its sack and rescued her from becoming squid-sushi. They'd agreed on having Esli bring the majority of the creature back to the City to be distributed, while Nadine took a portion to see her through her test.

Her test. Nadine scowled, flexing her toes. As part of the Seven, she was required to spend one night alone on the island, to make certain she could handle masquerading as a human. Tonight had been her turn—Esli, Mara, Telm and the others had all returned in one piece. But they hadn't been where she'd been, had never seen what she'd seen.

A tremor rushed through her. Already she could feel the heat of the blazing sun, though thick grey clouds smeared the sky.

The gull's jeering broke her from her trance. She glared at it, the stupid creature that was of neither land nor sea, yet benefitted by stealing from both. "Shoo," she said, waving her arms at it. It gave a little hop and with a shriek, took to the air.

Nadine heaved herself to her knees. It was time to practice standing and walking. Pushing her bangs from her face, she placed one foot on the pebbles. The rocks bit into the soft palm of the foot, shooting tiny spasms of pain up her leg. Her eyes widened and she wobbled. You've got this, she thought. You can do it. She couldn't let Esli and the others have another reason to think her incapable. She was tired of hiding behind stupidity all the time, tired of them assuming her a naiveté that did not exist.

She'd hurt, she'd grieved, she'd lost. She could do this one thing, conquer this one little hurdle. For Rurriel. For herself. For her people.

_Come on! _she thought. _Come on!_

And she was on her feet, balancing with precarious precision on legs that felt as bendable as weed and as stable as weather. She beamed. She'd done it!

She took a step.

And fell over.

She did it all again. And again. And again. The hours dragged by, discernible only through the fading rays of light that squeezed between the clouds. She kept trying, driven by she didn't quite know what.

Finally she could take baby steps without toppling. Exhausted, she flung herself to the ground and closed her eyes. Sleep came as soft as words, and as fulfilling as satisfaction.

* * *

><p>Esli glanced at the surface, wondering what Nadine was up to. The water was dark, yielding no hints.<p>

_I didn't think you were worried about her, _Telm said, deflecting her absentminded jab. He smacked the hilt of her sword, and it slipped from her fingers. With a sigh, he walloped the back of her hand.

She flinched. _Ouch_, she said.

_Liar. _He was trying to sound humorous, but she didn't think it very funny.

_You know, _he said, cocking his head to the side, _I think you actually like her, as much as you pretend otherwise._

Esli stooped, scooping up her sword. He thought he knew her so well; he didn't know anything. Just because he'd known Nathanael, didn't mean he understood her! She scowled down at the sand. In some respects, Telm was just like his father, overestimating his own worth.

She glanced up at him. But in others… he did remind her of Nathanael, a little bit. The dark hair and eyes, the soft sand-brown skin. Every now and then she found herself drawn to him, because he was like a memory come to life.

_I don't like her, _she said. _And you know why._

Telm was silent. Then he said, softly, _Because she stole Nathanael from you?_

She gritted her teeth. Maybe he did know her—No. No, he didn't. Only Nathanael ever did, and ever could. That part of her—and the demise that came with it—was hers to bear alone. _You don't like her, either._

He shrugged. _I don't dislike her, _he said. _She's just sort of blah, that's all. Like eating sand. Uninteresting. Unless… _He fixed her in his gaze, eyes alarmingly keen. _Unless you know something about her that I don't?_

_ Nothing. Nothing at all. _She said the words too quickly and with too much force; he frowned.

_Then why does my father have you follow her?_

Esli tensed. _What do you mean?_

_ I overheard him telling you to go to island and watch her, to see what she does. Why?_

She shook her head, slipping the sword into its sheath and turning away. _It's none of your concern._

He gripped her wrist, his hand sliding up her arm to cover her brand. The touch startled her with its intensity. His fingertips burned into her skin, hotter than flames. She froze, half-glaring, half-hoping he couldn't see past the anger to the twisted knot inside. _When will you trust me? _he asked. _I'm not going to betray you like Natha—_

She slapped him across the face. His hand flew to his cheek, his eyes widening. _Don't you ever, _she snarled. Do_n't you ever… _She ran out of words. _Don't! _Before he could see the scales slipping from her tail, she whirled and raced into the barracks.

* * *

><p>Nadine woke to grey light and icy fingers trailing across her skin. Her eyes flew open. A thick, roiling blanket smothered the horizon, spreading its bulk across the sea. Her pulse raced and a low thrum rippled through her. Her nostrils flared, the tang of the ocean mingling with the moistness of the breeze. The sky was preparing to burst.<p>

She smiled, crawling to the edge of the island to dip her toes in. Chills shot up her legs. She shivered, laughter bubbling in her stomach. It was almost enough to compensate for her lost dinner the night before—the chance to live out a storm.

The wind's gnarled fingers snapped her hair from its braid and whipped it across her eyes. She pushed it aside, focusing on the southern coast. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be looking for, or if perhaps the test was already over. All she knew—or felt—was that the Vizier was trying to draw her secret out somehow. If he thought sending her to the surface would bring this about, he might order her to stay there indefinitely.

She snorted. He wasn't getting this part of her—never. Resting her chin on her arms, she found her thoughts drifting. They bobbed through her head, broken pieces of some sort of ship that hadn't yet been completed. If her memory was a ship, it was in desperate need of repair. Some things were clearer than knowledge, and others as dim as far-off dreams. Her parents' faces, Nyla… and someone. That _someone _was important, was part of her identity, but for a reason she couldn't explain, he or she was just… gone. An ache she couldn't heal, an itch she couldn't relieve.

Her fingers curled into her skin. Why couldn't she remember? Why was it just that one Mer?

She tried to escape the feeling, conjuring Rurriel's laugh to dowse her confusion with grief. The old familiar pang returned, but it brought no spasms of anguish. She only wished that he was still alive, that his life hadn't ended so young. With this came the realization that she hadn't truly loved him, which wasn't all that surprising.

She sighed. It had been the idea of love, that all-consuming passion that blinded one to the pain of the world and brought them joy even in the deepest, darkest moments of doubt. She'd wanted him to save her, which was a stupid notion considering he hadn't even been able to save himself.

A shrill cry startled her from her thoughts. She glanced up to see a gull circling overhead. She fancied it was the same one from last night, come back to see if she had any more food. Greedy little land-air-grubbing-beast-bird-thing. She wondered what poached gull might taste like, and hefted a rock in her palm.

The bird swooped in, made a grab for the rock, and squawked as it realized its prey was a lot heavier than it'd bargained for. With a scolding cry, it abandoned its effort at stealing her sustenance and took off over the sea.

"That's right! That's what you get!" Nadine shouted after it, enjoying the way her voice echoed out across the water, bold and free. Here, there was no Vizier ripping her open with his eyes, no Esli to treat her like a child. She almost liked it. "Scuttle away, you blood-sucking—" Her eyes trailed the bird's path, and the words died in her throat.

On the surface of the sea, a lone boat bobbed across the waves.

Nadine's toes tingled. Panic laced her spine, scattering gooseflesh. She drew back, scrabbling over the rocks as she retreated further inland. But the No Man's Islands were volcanic, very young in the age of the world. Few trees and but a scattering of mosses and flowers thrived here—there was nowhere to hide.

She stopped. What was she running for? Her fingers closed around the amulet at her neck. In the water, she would have all the power.

_Do not forget your promise. _

The words lanced through her. It was like a spear through the stomach, and she keeled over. "Damn you!" she shrieked. Even now, four years later, his voice haunted her. His _promise_, which tore her from her very nature.

"Nadine!"

Nadine startled so violently she lost her balance. Esli found her on the ground, trembling and clutching her amulet, ancient Mer prayers pouring over her lips. Esli glared down at her, her hands on her hips. "What are you doing? Didn't you see the boat?"

Nadine shuddered. Boats. She'd been on boats before, scales torn off by netting that sank into one's blubber, dragged across floors harder than ice.

Esli dug her toe into Nadine's ribs, a sharp jab that distracted Nadine from her fear. "I saw it," she said.

Esli rolled her eyes. "Then why aren't you going after it? I came up to check on you, and all I see is you here, cringing like a coward!"

Nadine flinched. "I didn't ask to be a warrior."

Esli barked out a laugh. "Oh," she said. "So you think we still get a choice? Would you believe me if I told you I don't like this, either?"

No. Nadine wouldn't. Esli seemed created for action—her confident stance, glittering eyes, firm chin. And yet… there was a vulnerability, too. In the slight pucker of her brow, the puffy circles rimming her eyes… Nadine, intrigued, sat up and leaned closer. Esli tilted her chin, obstructing Nadine's view.

"Are you coming?" she snapped.

"Esli, please—"

"I'll tell the Vizier," Esli said fiercely, spitting out the words through her teeth. "So help me, Nadine, don't—" She stopped, her dark hair lashing against the wind.

Fear pricked Nadine at the mention of the Vizier, but she pushed the words out anyway. "Don't what?"

Esli's fingers clenched into fists. "Please," she whispered, shoulders drooping. She sounded so tired. Forlorn.

Nadine swallowed. She didn't want to do this, didn't want to meet her own doom in the guise of a broken promise. In this world, promises were curses.

Yet she did want to be brave, almost more than she wanted to be safe. Her knees knocked against one another and her insides felt like sand. But as Esli turned and strode away, she followed.

Nadine slid into the ocean, tearing the Merteri amulet from her neck and slipping back into herself. Her legs melded and scales pushed through the pores, their miniscule vents acting as gills to allow her to breathe underwater. She gulped in a salty burst and pumped her tail. Down here, she didn't feel quite so vulnerable.

The top of her head skimmed the surface as she raced toward the ominous shadow of the boat, the currents dragging her and Esli along at a pace that made her scales sting. Above, lightning flashed, cracking the ceiling of the sea into fragments of green-yellow flames. Thunder cracked, its echo rippling through the waves. Rain sluiced the surface, filling everything with music.

They burst through the surface beside the boat, Esli tossing her streaming hair from her eyes. Onboard, a human child stood at the helm, struggling to manoeuvre the vessel through the waves. Nadine yelped as the current pummelled her against the helm. She sank below the water. Esli's hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her back up. _Don't be a baby, Nadine! Use your tail, and pump!_

_ Can't we—_Her words were lost to the wind as Esli leaped at the boat. The child caught sight of her and screamed. Gripping the railing, Esli hauled herself aboard. Nadine hesitated, churning water. Spindly gold sticks on the side of the boat caught her eye; she peered closer, wondering what they meant. They seemed to be in some form of pattern…

Esli shrieked. Nadine's head jerked up. Her heart dropped. There, looming over Esli, was a man that flickered white in the ghostly glow from the lightning. Another roll of thunder shook the horizon. The little boy was still at the wheel, screaming and trying to turn the boat around. The waves grew, rising higher and higher. They clawed at the hull and crawled up the sides, creeping over the deck. Esli slid from sight.

_Esli!_ Nadine screamed.

No answer.

Nadine lunged for the railing. Her hands closed over the slick cold rim, fingers slipping. She lurched again, panic mounting as Esli stayed silent. If Nadine hadn't been such a coward…

Rain trickled across Nadine's lip. She swallowed water that didn't taste like salt and grimaced. She found a grip on the rim and finally clambered onto the boat deck.

She froze, memories assaulting her. _Screaming, blood, being dragged across wooden floors… The final whisper of a Mer song from those that withered to death…_

Esli lay motionless, pale face turned to the merciless sky. The glowing man stood over her, but he didn't seem to be making any move to harm her. Nadine stared, too confused to understand what to do.

Then she noticed the little boy creeping up behind her, face white. In his hands he gripped a large rock. Nadine squeaked and threw herself out of the way.

Esli groaned and shifted, raising her head. Her eyes fell on the glowing man and a snarl twisted her lips. She lunged at him.

Nadine's mouth dropped open. Esli's hands went right through the man, as though he were woven from the air itself. Esli tried again, with the same result. Her eyes flicked to Nadine. _Grab the boy!_

The man whirled. "Joey, the nets!"

Nadine's throat constricted. Not _nets_—how could she have forgotten _the nets_? _Esli, jump! _she screamed.

It was too late. From secret compartments in the railing, nets sprang out to wrap around the Mer girls. Nadine grunted as she landed hard against the deck, her tail pinned under the weight of the ropes. Esli thrashed and screeched, pulling the cords tighter. This was one thing the warrior had no experience with.

_Stop struggling! _Nadine cried. Her fingers wrapped around her dagger. She started sawing through the cords, teeth gritting together. The waves slammed against the boat, setting it to rocking.

"The Dead Man's Zone!" the man yelled. He was at the wheel, shouting directions in the child's ear. "You have to jump!"

"I don't know how to swim!" the boy screamed.

Nadine sawed faster. Esli was ripping at the ropes as well, her movements frantic and jerky. If they crashed in the Dead Man's Zone—the coral reef—they'd all die. The sea witches had harnessed the majority of the sea's magick to protect the Mer Valley; any boat that even skimmed the reef burst into flames.

As the boat drifted closer and closer, the knot in Nadine's stomach tightened. The rope was so thick…

A choking sound erupted from Esli's throat. Nadine flicked the rain from her eyes, too feverish to pay attention to anything but the entwined threads. So thick…

Esli's hand gripped hers. _Nadine, we're not going to make it. I have to tell you something—_

The boat hit the reef with a grating screech. Nadine's dagger slid into air.

Everything exploded, and flames of darkness swallowed the sky.


	6. The Broken Promise

**Author's Note: Yay! Exciting chapter! Thanks to all who have read and reviewed so far! For those that read but don't review, I'm begging you, on hands and knees-please let me know what you think! PLEASE! Thank you!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: The Broken Promise<strong>

Darkness. It snaked across her vision, twined around her limbs, hissing, hissing. Why wouldn't it let her go? She thrashed, straining at the bonds that chained her. They gave way, thrusting her back into a world of wet air and trembling clouds.

Around her, the water churned, scattered with lumps of debris. She searched frantically for Esli, screaming her name.

There was no answer but for the howling of the wind.

She ducked beneath the surface, calling until her voice went hoarse.

Nothing.

Nadine didn't know what to feel, though her body seemed to. Her tail drooped and her heart pounded, but even it didn't know if she was more angry or sad. Angry that Esli had never given her more of a chance, or sad that now there would be no more chances. She tilted her head, staring up the surface and trying to understand herself.

It was then that she noticed the child.

He was struggling to keep his head above water, stubby little human legs kicking up foam. From below, he looked headless.

_Kill him. _The sea pushed against her, forcing her toward him. He wouldn't see her coming, though perhaps he sensed it. His legs pumped harder and his arms joined the fray, flailing through the dark sea surface.

_To the queen, my heart, my sword. To my kin, my scales, my fins. If I ever this oath break, kill me for my honour's sake._

Nadine swallowed. This was her duty, retribution for Esli's life.

But wasn't that how the war had continued? Bitterness enflaming violence, cruelty disguised as justice?

The image of the starving Mer child with the limp gold hair floundered in Nadine's mind, uncertain whether to linger or disappear. She ordered it to cease, to fade, but it blazed all the brighter.

This child had nothing to do with the Mer children. Nothing. He had everything to do with Esli's death.

It was time to be brave, time to stop wishing for things and make them happen.

Nadine glided through the water, slipping into a current and allowing it to draw her closer to the boy's wild foot. She dodged a kick, then grabbed his ankle and yanked him below the surface. The water cut off his scream, strangling it into a gurgle.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she sank into the depths. The wild pounding of his heart was the only sound she could hear. His arms twisted and jerked, an elbow catching her in the face. She hissed, her grip on him loosening.

He whirled away from her, a flash of lightening illuminating the gold of his curls—and his face.

She saw his eyes.

And choked.

_Green. Green as seaweed, green as happiness, green as a promise…_

A burning sensation erupted in her chest. She gasped for breath, clawing at the water as darkness speckled her sight. If she killed him, the promise would kill her.

But if she let him go free… she would be a… a…

_To the queen, my heart, my sword. To my kin, my scales, my fins. If I ever this oath break, kill me for my honour's sake…_

But no, she couldn't drown him. She'd die! And, part of her whispered, it's wro—

No! No, no, no! They were enemies. She'd seen what humans could do, had felt their cruelty against her skin.

_And their kindness_, a voice whispered. _Almaira, Nadine._

It wasn't her voice; it wasn't her words. A chill seeped through the flames within, and she twisted. She thought she saw a glitter of purple from the corner of her eye, but then the voice crawled through her again. She wasn't just hearing with her ears and her mind. The words breezed through _her, _body and soul combined.

_Save him._

No! She couldn't! Her people, her family—

What family?

Promise.

Blood.

The burning intensified. The boy's eyelids fluttered shut, his shoulders sagging under the weight of Death. He drifted deeper, yet another victim of the hungry sea.

She snagged his tunic and heaved upward, heart splitting as they tore through the surface. _Traitor, _the sea hissed, and the word echoed through her mind long after she had left the depths behind.

* * *

><p>The current carried them along the far side of the reef, Nadine too exhausted to do much more than keep the boy's head above water. They were far from the southern No Man's Islands now, dragged along by the Northern Current. There were no places suitable for beaches along this stretch of jagged cliffs and coastal hills, and the few she did spot were guarded by the reef.<p>

A few gulls jeered overhead, dotting the lightening sky like snails on sand. A soft shade of blue struggled between the lingering clouds. The air was heavy and gentle. A burst of colour arched across the horizon, a hazy display of yellows and reds and purples. Nadine found herself breathless with wonder. The storm was over. Now only the waves rollicked and dipped as they gradually appeased.

The boy coughed and choked in her arms, water streaming from his mouth and nose. Panic shot through her. Then he sank back against her chest and went still, his wet curls scratching her cheek.

An odd, warm sensation flooded through her. The only thing she could compare it to was the way she'd once felt in a parent's embrace, except now she was the parent and this child was her charge. It was nonsensical, and she almost let him slip through her fingers right then and there.

But the promise… Oh, if she had only known the power of a promise when she was twelve, she would never have made one!

Finally, the current swept them past the Northern No Man's Islands, just mere tips of rock peeking out of the sea. Nadine could make out a tiny cove in a place two cliffs converged. With some difficulty, she struck out for it, the lingering fingers of current tugging at her fins.

When she reached it at last, breathless and gasping, she hauled herself and the boy onto the sand. For once, she wished she'd been better trained to kill—more muscles would have helped. Pebbles and gravel bit into her scales, and she flopped down on the beach, too tired to move. She took the moment to rest. The cove was secluded, the cliffs sheltering them from view. A copse of what looked like giant stands of weed rolled back from the beach. A footpath wound up the slope, but it was narrow and Nadine was fairly certain that, despite the idiocy of the human race, they weren't entirely stupid enough to practically throw themselves off of cliffs.

If they were, it would make everything a whole lot easier. They could live off humans speared on a stick.

Delirium was making her silly. Mer that preyed on human flesh were myths—_La Sirena_ had either died out long ago, or had never existed. Though it was possible they were the ancestors of the sea-witches…

A cry jolted her from her thoughts, and she looked up, hair standing on end. It was only birds as they circled, some diving to snatch fish from the shallow-water feeders. They were about the only kind that still thrived despite the Mer war, and it was part of a scout's duty to collect them. Such a job was saved for the food-gatherers, though—it was beneath a warrior's 'dignity'.

Other, more sombre thoughts prodded her mind. Esli… Her scales tingled, threatening to slip away. No. She flexed her muscles, determined no trace of her should be left behind, not on these human shores.

She distracted herself by observing the boy who had caused her so much trouble. He was young, even younger than she had first supposed; his face was chubby and pale, slightly green in pallor. For a moment she almost thought he was part Mer, but she remembered tales from the elders of humans who moaned of sickness from the sea. His green skin had nothing to do with having a sea heart. She looked at her own skin, veined with blue and green streaks that also wove through her hair. She was Mer, through and through. Even her eyes were different, void of the white rim these awkward humans boasted.

So how could she be lying on a beach, having just rescued one now? It went against her very nature. She feared—no, hated—these creatures.

Yet he looked so vulnerable, so helpless. She thought of their own children, how they starved on nothing but grains of sand and sickly seaweed.

She struggled onto her elbows, gasping with the effort. It was too soon. She crashed back onto the sand, enjoying its softness as it crumbled between her scales. It was quiet here, with only the gentle lapping of the waves against the beach, and the high, lilting calls of the gulls as they soared into the distance.

The boy's voice startled her with its hoarse, ugly croak. "Mo-other?"

He was waking. She was too weak yet to make her escape. He had to stay asleep. She opened her mouth, the rush of dry air parching her throat. But she had to sing, had to lull him into sweet oblivion, so when he opened his eyes, it was all a dream. She had never existed.

The words of her mother's lullaby trickled off her tongue before she could stop it, filling her heart with the sounds of laughter and the sight of smiles, a whole world different than the war. Her scales scattered across the sand in lament.

"I cry a song of the Sea

Of old and distant memories

When glistening waves in light of day

When peaceful was the lay.

Alas! Alack! How I mourn the time

When all the good in us doth die."

His eyes closed once more. But he shifted restlessly, legs swinging back and forth.

Her voice was hushed and croaking, but she sang anyways, desperate to keep him unconscious.

"The air is sea, and the sea is sweet,

Its brine in my veins doth throbbing beat.

A flick of fin, throng of scales glistening

And in my ears the whales doth sing.

Heart and soul, broken and whole, healed or beat

All of it belongs to the Lady Sea."

His legs stopped moving as her words swept him beyond her reach. She closed her eyes just enough that darkness eased her mind. As she rested, she could feel the strength gathering in her tail, flexing its muscles with a strain to return to the sea.

Sand crunched in front of her. She glanced up, horrified to see a tall human girl running toward her, face white as foam. White-blonde hair flew behind her, its ends pointing to the very copse that Nadine hadn't even considered could hide an onlooker. Nadine cursed her own stupidity. The humans might veer too close to cliffs, but they didn't fall into traps as easily as she did.

She scrabbled back across the beach, the effort in her aching muscles making her slow.

The girl's fingers scrabbled at the hilt of the sword thumping against her thigh. "Stupid Ithanor!" she was muttering. "Stupid, stupid, stupid! Come here, and the nuns only eat mud cakes and there're hardly any mountains and it's so damn hot. Not to mention the stupid Mer eating children and—"

The boy groaned.

The girl froze beside his body. She looked from him to Nadine and back again, ice blue eyes narrowed. Nadine didn't wait to see if she continued her attack; she crawled as quickly as she could to the water, splashing through the shallows until she reached the open sea. There, she tossed herself into the waves.

As she sank like a stone, Nadine prayed to the Creator that she would never again see the child's piercing eyes. She prayed that the girl would believe herself delusional. She prayed that she could keep this secret within her helm of secrets, a lie within her many lies.

When she opened her eyes, the prayers floated to the surface and beyond like foam, never to be answered.

* * *

><p>Esli stared at the creature in front of her, at the Mer girl she had followed to a cove. At the Mer girl who had profaned every Mer sold into human hands, at the girl who had betrayed her own kind to rescue a worthless human child.<p>

But why had she expected any different? She was just like _him_, and it made her want to scream. It was all hopeless—if she couldn't keep Nadine from straying, how would she ever have been able to save _him_?

_What have you done? _she whispered, pouring all the anger and the sorrow and the bitterness seething inside her into the words. _You made a _promise _to the _queen_, to _our kind_, Nadine— _The name tasted like sand. She spat it out, sickly satisfied at Nadine's flinch.

The other girl's face glowed white as squid. She said nothing, but her breaths were shallow, darting in and out like terrified schools of fish. Her lips trembled and her eyes were downcast, focussed on some sparkle far below. _I—_

_ Arrest her. _Telm appeared beside Esli, an eel that slithered and hissed and would never go away. Nadine stiffened, her tail stick-straight.

_You don't have to tell me what to do, _she snapped.

Nadine bolted, her scales a flash of coral in the sun-streaked sea. Telm caught her by the arms, his mouth set in a grim line. Again, he looked so much like his father, so devout toward the business at hand, that Esli's stomach turned. Nadine shot her a pleading glance, but Esli stared elsewhere, beyond the surface to the beach. A human girl was helping the child to his feet.

He was beyond their reach now.

With one swift movement, Telm clipped Nadine's temple with the hilt of his dagger. She slumped against his chest without a sound, not even a whimper. Her chestnut hair tumbled across his shoulders. Esli had once envied such hair, for it was the type Nathanael had teased and tugged. He had never teased or tugged _her_ hair, until she was old enough to learn that his love for her was a different type than that which he felt for Nadine. But was it deeper? Was it stronger?

He hadn't died for Esli.

_Did you know she would do this? _The question appeared out of nowhere. Telm started forward, Nadine's limp form in his arms.

_Of course not! How could you ask— _She stopped. Of course he didn't fully trust her; she didn't fully trust him, for all that he thought he knew her. Why else would he have trailed her here, just as she had followed Nadine?

_I thought you were never going to betray me, _she said.

He stared at her. _I haven't._

_ You just did. _In a place where trust was everything, his suspicion was worse than death. She didn't want his love or his friendship, and yet, she did. Because she was a fool and a coward, and she didn't want to feel so alone. Yet more than all of that, she feared that trusting someone else again would tear her to shreds, this time leaving nothing behind to heal.

And how could she ever trust him with anything, if he couldn't trust her?

_Esli—_He made to reach out and touch her hand, but Nadine nearly slipped from his grip. Readjusting his hold, he said, _How?_

_ You should have let me handle this by myself—you shouldn't have followed me!_

He said nothing, staring down at Nadine's face. _She's the traitor, not me, _he murmured.

Yes, she was. And Esli would take her and she would kill her and she would watch her die slowly. And when she was done dying and Esli was left all alone again, she would be reminded of how much it hurt to hope in anyone other than yourself.

* * *

><p><em>Death. <em>The vote was unanimous, the Council's voices overturning the queen's sympathy. Nadine's fins wobbled, and she slumped forward. Tilting her chin, she looked from face to face, searching for mercy. A few looked away, but Serna's gaze was steady.

_This has been the way of justice for generations, _she said. _Traitors die._

Nadine trembled at the word _traitor_. Telm tightened his grip on her shoulder. Esli's knuckles dug into her scalp, her fingers twisting into Nadine's roots.

_When the sun's rays kiss the surface, she will be put to death. Are there any volunteers for execution—_

_ I will! _Esli's grip tautened and Nadine hissed through her teeth. Mara stood, her eyes glinting as she smirked. Tossing her head, she said, _Sea-witches are loyal to the crown. What better way to serve than to eliminate those that aren't? _Though she spoke of Nadine, she shot a sly smile at Esli.

Behind her, Esli's tail whipped the sand, stirring up tiny particles that danced in the current and grated Nadine's scales.

The Vizier sat beside the queen, who had gone whiter and whiter throughout the proceedings. Now she looked not only pale, but the fine blue-green veins that ran under a Mer's shallow skin bulged on her face.

Nadine's pulse spiked, distracted from her fear. _She's going to—_

The Vizier stretched out an arm as the queen slumped back, her head lolling to the side. A few guards rushed forward and escorted her from the room. Unspoken agreement hinted that Elealeh was not the one with the power here anyway. As soon as she was gone, the Vizier resumed his lazy pose, his fingers tapping against the table as he cocked his head at her.

What was he thinking? She wondered. With that furrowed brow, that puzzled frown? Her insides vaulted and she took slow, steady breaths.

_Are you sure you're a good executioner? _he asked finally.

Mara stared at him. _Of course I am—_

_ I mean you no disrespect, of course, _he said in a voice that Nadine believed said he certainly did. _But we need one who doesn't rush through things. _His gaze flicked to Nadine and back to the sea-witch. _Someone who draws it out, makes it as painful as possible._

Mara laughed. _You obviously know little about us, then, if you thought we would do anything less._

_ Perfect. _He smiled. _Perfect._

* * *

><p>They threw her in the jail off the Records Room, where she could glimpse the training fields where she would die. In the darkness Nadine could see little, but she didn't have to see to imagine. In her mind, the plain was stained with sunlight and blood, magic tingling in the currents and making them flicker yellow.<p>

Nadine turned from the tiny circular window to the coral bars rimmed with anemones. If she tried to bend them or squeeze between, the creatures' sharp colourful tines would poison her.

She should know. She had been the one to suggest the anemones to the Head Gardener when she had been approached on the subject of ways to safeguard jails from escape. She scowled.

Beyond their spiny fingers, a guard loomed in the doorway that sheltered the jail from the Records Room. The jails had been slung together from shipwrecks in the day of the old king and held ten cells in all, though they'd never been properly fortified until now. This one off the Records Room had five, and but for her, they were empty.

She paced, tracing the walls that felt as though they had been constructed of sand. Their grainy texture bit into her fingertips, reminding her of a journey long ago—and a promise.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: Next chapter's going to be a flashback scene! I'm so excited to share it with you all! :)<strong>


	7. The Boy With Seaweed Eyes

**Chapter Six: The Boy with Seaweed Eyes**

She was twelve years old, and had ventured too close to a fisherman's nets. How they had sparkled in the sunlight, silver dancing across the waves! She had been warned as a child, by Nyla before she vanished and by someone… someone else, not to wander close to the surface.

_You're just afraid to, that's all, little guppy, _Esli had said. _It's nothing to be ashamed of. All _children _are afraid of the surface._ She was three years older and it seemed to give her the right to make Nadine feel small. Yet she was beautiful and brave and Nadine at that age had never wanted to be anyone more than she wanted to be Esli.

So to prove to herself that she could be brave and maybe even beautiful too, Nadine had snuck out of the house early one morning, avoiding the armies that would converge to battle on the plains later in the day.

The nets had been a mystery, a distraction from her grief over Nyla's disappearance. They had also been a source of opportunity: maybe this close to the land of humans, she'd find some hint as to where her beloved adopted mother had gone. Perhaps the ribbons that dangled were really silver. Perhaps she could sell them to the soldiers for food.

Before she understood their danger, she had been ensnared, ropes snagging her tail and looping around her arms. Thrashing and shrieking, she had sent out high-pitched distress calls again and again. No one had come, too busy with the war to pay heed to just another captured Mer child.

The humans had hauled her onboard their ship and dumped her on the ground, air blazing on her scales. The summer sun pounded against her head.

"Good catch," one said. A meaty finger jabbed into her scales. She hissed and bit at his hand.

Laughter erupted as the man yanked his hand back, his face flaming. The slap rocked her onto her back, and she lay there stunned and dizzy.

"At least she'll last longer, being a young one," another man said.

"We could just strip her scales and use her as shark bait."

"Nah, she's pretty enough, too. Some noble lad might want her to show off to his friends."

"Not as pretty as some of them."

"But look at those eyes! Like the sea in a bottle!"

"Cut out her eyes, then."

"Enough." A shadow fell across her, and she winced. The man's voice was deep and booming, reminding her of thunder as it bounded across the waves. "We'll take her to the Market, like any other catch. What happens to her after isn't our concern."

A rough hand gripped her arm and hauled her up. She thrashed, lashing with her tail and tearing open a wound on his thigh. Blood stained his pants. His grip loosened on her arm, only to wrap around her hair. Then he shook her, hard. Her teeth gnashed together, her neck snapping and shooting spurts of pain along her spine. Her temple stung and she bit deep into her tongue. "That's enough out of you, understand?"

She whimpered.

They threw her into the hull of the ship, which rocked and bucked like a seahorse gone mad. The darkness swallowed the sunlight, easing the ache in her scales. A shallow layer of water eased around her hands, thick and creamy. Aside from her splashing, the hull echoed with the sound of dripping. The air reeked, stuffing her nostrils with the stench of death and suffering.

She was so thirsty. She lowered her head to the water and slurped.

Salt. It burst on her tongue with an added tang that made her stomach vault.

This wasn't water.

She screamed and screamed and screamed, throwing herself at the wall to escape the blood that lined the floor and trickled between her scales.

The door to the hatch sprang open. Daylight streamed in, illuminating the Mer corpses suspended from the ceiling. "What's the ruckus?" a man bellowed. Then he caught sight of her cowering against the wall and grinned, revealing a mouth full of gaps and rotting teeth. "You discovered what happens to your folk, eh?" He pointed to a Mer woman's carcass, her long flowing hair matted with sweat and blood, her mouth open in a perpetual scream. Her armour glinted, the red crest of a rebel stitched into her seaweed breastplate. "That's what happens to those who give us too much trouble. They're worth almost as much dead as alive. So don't go giving us anymore sass." Slamming the hatch shut, he left her to shiver in the gloom, all too aware of the blood dribbling down the walls.

* * *

><p>She traded wooden floors for iron bars that nibbled against her flesh, scraping it until blubber oozed between her scales. They brought her to a wooden platform where a myriad of boats lined the walk, while men strode about with boxes on their shoulders. She glimpsed other platforms with even more men, and her heart sank into her stomach.<p>

A sailor bumped into the man carrying her, jostling his elbow. The man turned with a snarl. "Watch it, mate!"

The sailor shifted his cargo to his other shoulder. It was a cage. A Mer boy stared at Nadine with widened eyes. _Sea sister_. His words breezed through her, filling her with a sense of home.

_Sea brother. Did you get caught in the nets?_

The boy looked away. _My parents traded me to the sailors for food._

Nadine's blood ran cold. She straightened, banging her head against the ceiling. Stars flashed behind her eyelids. _What? How could they? What possessed them to betray—_

The man shook her cage, and she fell back against the bars. Her spine shrieked with pain. "Shut up in there!" he growled.

The sailor started walking again. The boy whimpered, curling into a ball. Nadine stretched her arms through the bars, reaching to brush his fingertips. _Sea brother, _she whispered, voice breaking.

_Sister… _His voice faded from her mind, leaving a dark cloud nestled in her thoughts.

She straightened, wrapping her fingers around the bars. "What—what will happen to him?" she demanded.

"You talking to me?" the man snapped. "Shut up!"

She fell silent, heart drumming against her ribs. Beyond the wooden platforms, a city rose into the distance. Paths twisted amongst buildings and stalls, the bright colours bleeding in her vision. She blinked and coughed as a deep, earthy scent filled her mouth, tracing the tip of her tongue.

The man that held her paused and inhaled deeply. "Ahh," he said. "Fresh bread." He continued to stand there in the midst of the road, people milling around him. Elbows knocked and muffled curses floated through Nadine's ears.

Finally he continued forward, alighting on a tiny stall tucked into a corner. Beside them, a horse with wings pranced and tossed its head, its mane coated with dirt. It's your own fault, Nadine thought. You left the sea of your birth to come here. What else did you expect? "That's a fine looking beast," the man said, setting Nadine down with a thump that rattled her teeth.

A small, snuffling man greeted him. "One of my lads snuck over the border and caught it in Kyrona's northern mountains—you know how hard they are to catch."

Nadine's captor nodded. "But not as hard as these pesky things." He tapped the top of Nadine's crate. She scowled, glaring at the merchant as he stooped to inspect her.

"Very young."

"She'll last longer."

"Maybe. But she isn't as pretty as some of the older ones."

"We don't marry them, fool. We just look at them."

"Exactly." The merchant licked his lips. Nadine's stomach turned.

"I'll give you a pound of flour for her."

Nadine's captor snorted. "I was thinking of a more even trade, Hagar."

Hagar swept his fingers through his short, golden hair. "What had you in mind?" His eyes darted to the winged horse. It whinnied and strained at its bonds.

The man followed Hagar's gaze. "My daughter would love to ride it."

"Your daughter. How sweet. How old is she?" But he asked it in a tone that implied he didn't truly care to know.

"Five this spring. My wife wants to teach her to ride one day. What better than to ride into the sky?"

Hagar snorted. "Humans are better off on the ground. Flying is dangerous—almost more dangerous than outrageous prices."

"Well, it's not nearly as outrageous as a pound of flour for a Mer child."

Nadine lost interest in the conversation. Her eyes and thoughts began to wander, to ponder the land of her death. She was so far from the sea. What happened to the Mer who died in the clutches of humans? Did they turn to dust? She thought of crumbling away, of never returning to the foam from which she had been made. She clutched the bars, biting back a scream.

She had to think, had to focus. With life, there was hope.

The men finally reached an agreement. After shaking hands, Nadine's captor led the flying horse away. Hagar whirled, rubbing his hands together and whistling. Kneeling down in front of her, he asked, "Can you speak?"

She cocked her head to the side, feigning idiocy. Widening her eyes and slackening her jaw, she stared at him.

"Ahh. You're trying to trick me." He wagged his finger at her. "I've seen that look many times."

Panic constricted her chest, but she stayed silent.

He shrugged. "Fine then. If you talk, you might be able to get a nice family."

She wanted _her_ family. She wanted the sea, the burst of salt in her mouth. What were humans, with their bloody hulls and their leering grins, to her? They could rot in a flaming hell for all she cared. She wanted her mother, her father, the water's caressing touch across her scales…

Her lips trembled and scales tumbled off her tail. Hagar caught them in his hand, rolling them across his palm. They tinkled, currency worth more than gold. Nadine had seen gold; it was shiny, but even it couldn't grant wishes. "Very nice," Hagar breathed. Straightening, he bowed to her. "Have it your way, my Mer. I'll get money out of you one way or another."

Morning dragged into afternoon, and afternoon faded into orange-washed evening. Night crept slowly across the sky, stars shooting from its fingers. They twinkled far above Nadine's head, tiny pearls that cast soft, cool light. A gentle breeze stirred her hair, stroking her neck and making it easier to breathe. The air now tasted of brine and seaweed. She licked her dry, cracked lips and closed her eyes, singing herself to sleep.

The next morning heralded a vast array of fingers poking her skin and tugging at her hair. She tried slashing at knuckles, but the sun had withered her fins until they crackled and threatened to shred under impact. So she kept still, gritting her teeth and crossing her eyes at a man who tried to jab her with a stick. He startled, jerking back and tripping over his own feet. Laughter bubbled in her stomach; she clapped her hands over her mouth to keep the giggles from escaping.

Hagar sniffed. "You're not worthy of her," he said.

Neither are _you_, she thought. She watched as a woman hurried by, ushering a flock of odd-looking birds with long white necks and orange feet. They hissed and flapped their wings, darting after a man who strayed too close. He yelped and, kicking up his knees, ran for his life.

What fearsome creatures, she thought. Too bad I don't have one of those. A well-aimed peck could incapacitate Hagar and have him at her mercy.

She was so intent on these ferocious beasts that she didn't notice the newest customer. When a smooth, lilting voice addressed Hagar, she looked up.

The customer was a young man—no, a boy, not much older than she. Fifteen winters, perhaps. Not old enough for wisdom, yet beginning to outgrow the fat flesh of childhood in his cheeks.

The boy glanced at her, eyes green as seaweed. She almost wondered what a Mer was doing with two legs, until she realized that the rest of him was severely lacking. He was skinny, his legs mere sticks. Not powerful enough to knock out an enemy or drive him through the water. His skin was not the luscious translucent quality of her kind, and his hair was a dull brown that curled across his brow.

She wrinkled her nose.

Bending down, he didn't nudge her or pull her hair. In the ancient language of her people, he asked, _Merana? _Mermaid?

That was an old-fashioned word.

Impressed despite herself, she answered, _Hu-la? _You stu-pid?

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. _Ha-la? You _stu-pid?

She glared at him. _Na! _No!

"Me neither," he said.

Hagar shifted from foot to feet, chewing on his lip. "What's she saying?"

The boy straightened. "That you're an idiot. And she's not."

Hagar sucked in his cheeks and stepped forward, his arm raised. "I'll—"

"I agreed with her."

Hagar stopped. His arm dropped. "Of—of course," he said.

The boy's nose wrinkled. "You disgust me, Hagar," he said. "And what's this I hear of you trying to bid off the Mer you promised to sell to me? I'm your first customer—and your only—for those captured from the sea. Wasn't that our deal?"

Hagar blanched. "But—but Your Hi—"

The boy smacked his hand across Hagar's mouth. His eyes flashed. "I'll have you flogged," he hissed, peeking over his shoulder. None of the passerby took any notice of the boy-child in the tattered tunic lined with gold.

Hagar's knees buckled. His next words were muffled by the boy's palm. The boy slid his hand away, and Hagar babbled, "Take her. Take her. Usual price, but no flogging, please. My wife thinks it makes me resemble a red skunk."

"Maybe it's your smell."

Nadine had no idea what a red skunk was, but from the way Hagar's face reddened, it must have been an insult. She almost clapped her hands, until she realized she had no idea what this boy would do to her. A big mouth did not an ally make.

The boy unbuckled a bag that clinked from his belt, tossing it at Hagar's feet. Almost at once the man scooped it up and poured it out onto his table. Deft fingers sorted the gold and he nodded with a satisfied smile. "My wife will get a new hat to shield her from the sun," he said, and dimples curved his cheeks. "Thank you…" He paused. "Young sir."

The boy grunted and grabbed Nadine's cage. He pulled. It didn't budge.

_Hu nat sur caredec on, hu? _Nadine asked. You're not so big now, are you?

"I'm trying to help you," the boy wheezed, tugging at the crate.

"Would you like some help?" Hagar asked, all eagerness and self-sacrifice. When he approached the cage, Nadine sprang at the bars, curling back her lips. Hagar froze in place.

The boy threw another coin at him. "Take it and fetch me a sailor," he said. "One who doesn't ask questions."

* * *

><p>So it was that Nadine found herself gripping the bars and swaying as another sailor weaved through the bustling crowds. The boy strolled beside them, staring at her. His eyes were so <em>green<em>. She had never stopped to consider that humans could have so much of the sea in them.

His questioning gaze prodded where greedy fingers had not—her mind. Queries seemed to seep from his skin and hover around his form, much like the magickal auras of the most powerful sea-witches.

But he didn't ask and she didn't say a word. They passed women on street corners who asked if they wanted a soul reading, girls selling flowers and boys waving fish around in the air. Nadine's mouth watered at the sight, and she reached out to snatch a tiny silver fish from a child's undeserving fingers.

"Don't." The boy stopped and offered the child a coin for the fish. The child grinned up at him and nodded, scampering off as the boy turned to Nadine with the fish in his palm. He held it out to her. She stared at it, tempted.

But it was tainted, now. How could she trust him? Stealing from a human what was rightfully hers was one thing; accepting it, like an offer of friendship, was something entirely different. Though her stomach panged its protest, she shook her head and refused the food.

The boy's brow furrowed. "Are you all this stubborn? No wonder we fight so often."

Her fins curled. "Yes, it's completely our fault," she said. "It's us who capture and slaughter your children."

"What about their fathers?" he asked.

She was stunned into silence. "What do you mean?"

"Fishermen off the coast, poor men. You kill them."

"It's our fish," she said flatly.

The conversation ended. They continued on, Nadine with her arms folded across her chest as she closed her eyes and imagined anyplace else. She didn't know what the boy did; he could have tripped over his clumsy feet a thousand times and she wouldn't have noticed—or cared.

But she did notice when the reek of human sweat melted into the ticklish scent of ocean brine. A breeze bursting with whispers from the sea brushed her face. Her eyes flew open and her heart leapt.

There, at the end of the platform, was the sea. It stretched far out, kissing the horizon and lapping at the sky. A blanket of serenity, at least on the surface—but it was home. Her tail hardened and her scales smoothened out, hope its own healer.

But suddenly her exultation died. What if he had brought her so close, and yet, so far, only to veer another way, take a different path?

She whirled, grazing her head against the ceiling of the crate. The boy stared back at her, but he said nothing except, "Load her onto this boat," to the sailor. The man dumped her without ceremony onto the deck of a small blue boat that bobbed on the waves. Untying the rope that attached it to the platform and clambering aboard, the boy took hold of the wheel.

When they had reached midway between the land and the Royal's Reef, the boy dropped anchor and ran over to her cage. For a moment he stood there, panting, sweat dripping off his nose. "Now, I'm going to release you, but don't attack me."

He knelt and fumbled with the latch, then seemed to think better of it. His fingers paused on the lock. "Promise me something," he said.

She regarded him warily. "What?"

"Do not take a human life. As I have saved yours, do the same for my people."

She gasped. "No—"

"I will take you back," he said. "And sell you to a meat-maker." He met her gaze without a flinch. "Promise me on the name of the Creator." He traced the sign of a fish across his chest and raised his eyes heavenward.

A deep, dark foreboding knotted her tail. She didn't answer.

The boy waited, then shrugged and got to his feet. Turning, he walked over to the anchor's chain and started pulling it in.

"I promise!" she blurted, scratching the fish sign into her chest so hard flesh came off under her nails. Blood trickled across her collarbone. "On the name of the Creator, I will not take a human life, because you saved mine!"

There was no echo of thunder or flash of lightning, but a heavy feeling, something she could only describe as a sort of… _permanence_, settled on her shoulders.

The boy returned and unlatched the door. Before he opened it, he said quietly, "A promise is a promise, more powerful than hatred."

Then the cage blended into free sky and sea. She scrambled out, scraping her aching scales across the hardwood deck and clutching at the railing. She gulped deep breaths of briny air. The boy watched her, an odd smile twisting his lips. "What's it like, down below?" he asked.

She shot him a cursory glance. "More beautiful—and terrible—than you'll ever know, _shuskla_," she said. Idiot.

He'd smiled then, and kissed her, probably just to tell his friends that he'd done it. She slapped him across the face, hoping that it would leave a lasting imprint. He had given her life where there was death, but it didn't mean they were friends. After all, it had come with a price—the price of a promise. Throwing herself into the sea, she allowed the chill waves to pull her deeper than any human would ever go.

She glanced up only once, to see him leaning over the railing. The water blurred his features until he looked like a big blob of sea-slug slime. Idiot. A _shuskla_, a creature who didn't know his own place in the world and betrayed his own kind.

But when she closed her eyes to bask in liberty and the sensation of the currents rippling across her arms and over her stomach, all she saw were his eyes. _Green. Green as the sea._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: Thanks to all who have read and reviewed so far! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! <strong>  
><em>


	8. Prelude to Death

**Chapter Seven: Prelude to Death**

The grating cough of the guard startled Nadine from the past, hurtling her through time and visions to the present. She looked up from where she had curled up on the floor, her arms wrapped around her tail. The Mer man was staring at her, his eyes dark and watchful. She recognized his face, though she didn't know his name.

_What are you in for? _he asked.

_I thought you weren't allowed to ask questions. _With a stranger, she could be curt; he didn't know that within, she was trembling with dread.

He shrugged. _You'll be dead anyway. Can't hurt to know why._

She hesitated, shame seeping through her. _I'm a traitor._

He snorted and rolled his eyes. _That I had already suspected. But what did you _do_, exactly, that was so traitorous?_

She swallowed. _I saved the life of a human child. _

The lines creasing his eyes tightened. _Ah. _She expected him to turn his back or stab her through the stomach with his trident. He did neither. Instead he drifted closer, settling onto the sand outside her cell. _My name is Madman._

The ridiculous name eased her fear a little. _Madman?_

_ It's from when I was a young man, first drafted into the king's army. I chopped down rebels with a crazy speed and accuracy. _His fingers trailed across the handle of the trident, brushing off a clinging strand of seaweed. _My comrades and enemies alike took to calling me the Madman. _He paused, and a sigh swept through him, a sad, ancient current that touched depths Nadine would never see. _And then after the king and his sons all died, I was stripped of my honour and glory as a head warrior and put on jail duty._

Nadine wondered if he told this story to all the criminals who passed through here, so that they find have some solace in a fellow sufferer before their demise. Before she could ask, he continued on. _There were three things the king taught us in training. Can you guess any of them?_

Nadine racked her brains. _Don't lose?_

_ No. _His gaze bore into her. _Lose, and learn. Live, and love. And never fight someone weaker than you._

Nadine sucked in her cheeks and leaned back against the wall. The Mer man nodded. _As you can see, my valor earned me little more than scorn under the new regime. My training under the king himself made certain I was no traitor, but you can imagine that the queen doesn't want such nonsense in her court. After all, how are we supposed to kill all the humans if we don't take their children? _He scowled. _While we kill them, we neglect to protect our own._

Nadine noticed a tiny seaweed braid dangling from his necklace and pointed at it, quirking a brow.

His black tail flexed. _My daughter's_, he whispered, closing his huge hand around it. _She made it for me before a battle. While I was gone and chopping off enemy heads, my own child and wife were cut down in their beds by rebels. The one thing that meant the most was the one thing I couldn't protect._

Nadine thought of her parents, of Rurriel. She had been too young and too oblivious to protect any of them. _I'm sorry._

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then: _Fight._

_ What? _She stared at him.

_Fight for your life, _he murmured. _It's all you have. Who knows where we go when we die? From foam we were made, to foam we will return. What's beyond—_

_ No one has learned_, she finished, trepidation settling over her again.

This world was full of such uncertainty, and its inhabitants brimming with a knowledge of their own immortality.

Hopeless, in a sense. Dead before birth.

And yet, still there was life.

She had struggled to keep herself from fulfilling the promise—had gotten herself demoted from warrior to gardener, had decided to keep herself hidden and out of sight. But maybe that wasn't the best way. The promise was over—the boy had only said _a life_—and perhaps the power within her wasn't a burden but a path to freedom.

The Vizier wouldn't kill someone he could use.

But did she want to be used? Was being his pawn better than death?

Yes. Yes, it was. Because life _was _hope, and as long as she lived, she didn't have to serve him forever. She could escape, somehow.

She raised her eyes to meet those of Madman. He smiled at her. _I've lost so much and seen so many lose, but I also know that we can begin anew. _Reaching out his hand, he showed her a wedding brand stamped across the back of his hand. It was his name, entwined with that of one named Ona. Faded into his skin yet still visible was another name: Elina. _As soon as you stop fighting, _he said softly, _hope is meaningless. And without hope, love has no seed, and life cannot grow._

Nadine brushed the names, felt their histories and stories tingling in her fingertips. She met his gaze again, a hardness like steel—no, determination—straightening her spine. She _would_ survive. She would _live_. _Fetch me the Vizier._

* * *

><p>The Vizier arrived in a flourish, a dead sailor's black cape billowing in his wake. A silver brooch clasped it at his neck. Nadine stared at it, anger pulsing through her. He arrayed himself in stolen finery, while the queen remained plain and unadorned.<p>

Yet, this Mer man was her salvation.

Swallowing her dislike, she waited. With a smile resembling that of an eel, he slithered up to her cell. Madman unlocked the door and the Vizier ducked inside, perching on a stool. _You're dismissed, guard. _Madman drifted into the Records Room, a shadow just within the edge of sight. His trident glinted in the sea-fire light of the torches lining the Records Room.

The Vizier turned to her. Nadine's blood froze in its veins. _You called for me? _he asked, rubbing his temple. _I am extremely busy, of course._

If he was expecting her to pay obeisance to his status, he would have to wait. He had nothing that she desired—except the key to life. She opened her mouth to betray her secret, but the words didn't come. Something in her swelled back, a wave that resists crashing down against the rocks. Choking, she stammered out, _I—I—_

_ What would you do to stay alive, Nadine? _he interrupted.

_ A-anything! _The word couldn't come fast enough.

_What would you do to prove your loyalty?_

_ Anything! _The notion struck her that 'anything' might not be good enough. Terror seized her limbs and she started quivering.

A smile curved his lips. Leaning close, he whispered against her ear, _Do you have something to show me, Nadine? _His breath was cold across her neck, an icy finger that lingered too long. Her breathing hitched.

_I—I don't know how. _The trembling intensified. His presence darkened everything, seeping across the walls in a chilling shadow, even as her heart pounded with hope.

_How to show me? Disappointing._

Her fingers clenched. He had her, a fish in his net. But there was no way out of it now. Not if she didn't want to die. _I can tell you, _she whispered. As soon as the words left her lips, she wanted to snatch them back and swallow them.

The Vizier sat back. _Go on._

Her fingers were shaking. She tucked them beneath her bottom. Swallowing, she pitched her voice low. _I—I have some sort of… of power._

_ Hmm. What sort of power?_

_ I—I don't know. It… it just glows blue and—_Her voice hitched. _It's powerful._

_ I figured that._

He was mocking her. She wanted to curl up and vanish, a shell buried by layer upon layer of sand. She gave herself a mental slap in the face. Courage! _I can heal things, make them grow._

He nodded, clapping his hands and bobbing his head. _Amazing. You astound me. You're the Weed Wonder of the World._

Nadine sucked in her cheeks, anger flaring. His applause was the mocking adoration of an audience for a company of clumsy Mer dancers. She scowled.

The Vizier leaned forward, eyes shining. Did he expect something? For her to burst into flames in some awesome display of ferocious power? Arrr,Nadine thought, wishing she could wave her arms around for effect without looking stupid. I'll blast you into smithereens!

She wished she could, really. The Vizier's death would solve many of her problems… and create new ones. As much as she was sure he was hated, there were just as many who could use him in a position of power, just as he used them as his pawns. Though she dared to dabble in it, Mer politics were too muddied for her to garner any clear vision. She didn't know if she had any true allies—just enemies who hated another common enemy, and even they were uncertain. Everyone was too afraid to reveal their true selves—to anyone.

The Vizier took her hand. Her head snapped up so quickly her neck cracked. He brushed her knuckles with his thumb. _Forgive me for mocking you, _he murmured. _Thank you for telling me all that is in your heart. _He smiled, a long, sly smile that made Nadine's stomach twist. _I'll see what I can do._

* * *

><p>The night swirled by on sleepless fins, smearing exhaustion and dread across the sea. At the first touch of sun on sand, the executioner's guards arrived to escort her to the execution circle. No Vizier had come to free her in the middle of the night. No queen. No Esli. Just Madman and his pitying stares.<p>

_Come. _The trio of guards surrounded her, pushing her through the door. Nadine staggered forward, barely able to keep upright. Strong arms caught her around the waist. She found herself leaning into Madman's crushing embrace, clutching at a stranger who reminded her of a father. She trembled, swallowing the whimpers as she buried her face against his chest.

_Come on! _A guard ripped her away, disgust dripping in his voice.

_Fight, _Madman whispered, his fingers slipping from her grip. Nadine whirled, trying to catch another glimpse of him, but a guard struck her in the back and she crumpled to the sand. She lay there for a moment, panting and blinking the swarm of black-tipped fish from her vision.

_Weakling. Hard to imagine _you _were ever part of the Seven. _The guard yanked her up by the hair, shooting pain down her neck.

_ Probably just a guppy sent up for a trial run, _another said. They burst into laughter, but it was the sour mirth of those who have forgotten joy.

They dragged her into the training fields. A low drum beat vibrated through the currents, though it was slow and steady, not nearly as rapid and frenzied as Nadine's heart. She twisted in her captors' grip, trying to find the source of the sound. She found none. Perhaps the sea itself had become her judge.

A crowd had gathered to watch the execution. The first wave of onlookers was the peasants, those who scavenged for any food or mercy they could find. At the very front were bands of children, soldiers that were neither relatives nor friends grasping their arms and making certain they could not flee. They watched her with wide, frightened eyes, and she realized they were more terrified than she.

She struggled to smile at them, but anguish screwed it into a grimace. The girl with the sweet gold hair cried out, turning away. The guard that held her grabbed her chin and twisted her head back around. Scales dripped from the little Mer girl's tail.

As Nadine drew nearer and nearer to the execution circle, the audience blended into the wealthier Mer—the soldiers and Council elders. The Council hovered along the rim of the circle, witnesses to her every private agony. In the middle of the ring, Mara waited. Her veins glowed red and she smiled with all her glittering teeth.

The drum beat grew louder and faster. Nadine gasped for breath, gulping, gulping, gulping—

Silence.

They reached the outer edge of the circle. Nadine searched the faces, found the queen, who looked away; probed Jialel, who bit her lip; pleaded with Serna, who glared. And there, opposite her, was the Vizier. He smiled at her, eyes narrowed.

She didn't understand. Had she overestimated him—had he perhaps never known, or cared about, what was within her? She'd dared to gamble—and she'd lost.

Serna spoke, voice grating through the water. _Her name was Nadine Nandernine, before she called herself Traitor. Bring forward the brand._

Cloth rustled and fire hissed. Nadine turned and gasped.

Adna drifted forward, face white. In her hands she held a branding iron. It shook in her grip. Without a word, she pressed the end against Nadine's warrior brand.

_To the queen, your heart, your sword. To your kin, your scales, your fins. Because you dared this oath break, die now for your honour's sake. _Serna nodded at Adna, who dropped the poker and fled.

The guards thrust Nadine into the ring, her shoulder searing with pain.

The drum beat began again, filling the sea and pulsing through Nadine's soul. She sank to the sand, too frightened to move. Hands tugged her and shoved her along, hands soft and smooth with youth, palms rough and calloused from age. Her kin, her people, push, push, pushing her closer to death.

She landed in the centre of the ring, surrounded by eyes and throbbing with pain and the beats of drums. Mara circled her, palms flickering with spurts of magick. Her lips curled back in a feral grin.

_Fight. _Madman's voice pushed back the deafening echo of drums and the agony tearing through her. And it wasn't just his voice—another's, more familiar, older, deeper, swept through her body. It was more familiar, and yet she had only heard it once, as though it belonged to someone she had always known and yet never acknowledged. It was the voice from the boat, the voice without a name or a source.

It filled her with the idea, filled her with a thrill that could only come from the desire to obey. She matched Mara's grin with one of her one and lurched upright. Mara laughed. Nadine lunged.

She didn't even get close. A fist of sparkling red flame pummeled her stomach, throwing her across the sand. Currents hissed past her ears, tearing through her hair. She landed on her back and retched.

_Get up. _Was it the other voice, or her own? She was too dizzy to understand more than the instinct that took over. She tried to dodge, failed, tried to attack, and failed even more. But she tried. She fought, even if it was a miserable attempt that had the Vizier guffawing into his hand and the queen shedding scale after scale as she clung to his arm.

Yet it had to end sometime.

And it did, with Nadine collapsed on the seafloor, keeling over as she tried to gain breath enough to scream out her agony. Her scales sizzled and bones clicked that should have stayed silent.

She looked up one last time to meet the queen's gaze. Mara advanced, smile grim as sparks jumped between her hands.

_I'm sorry, _Nadine whispered. Elealeh glanced away, head bowed, her hair streaming across her face. Her arm slid from the Vizier's to hang limp at her side.

Mara flicked her fingers. Red flames shot out, curling away to form flickering flowers in the currents. Glowing sparks drifted down, scattering across the sand. They crackled and hissed, sinking into the seafloor. The crowd sighed, as though they watched sea-fireworks in a victory parade instead of the prelude to death. Nadine stared at the sparks as they scattered; in the dim morning light, they glittered like scales. She wondered if there would be anything left of her to skitter across the sea, to remind those that would rather forget that she had indeed existed.

She looked up to Mara's triumphant grin. Did she sense the terror, the hopelessness gripping Nadine's heart, as a shark tastes blood in the tang of the sea?

She flicked her fingers again, and this time there were no embellishments, no bursting blooms or arcing sparks. Three crackling streaks of crimson hurtled through the water, aimed at Nadine's face.

Elealeh buried her face in the Vizier's chest.

Nadine threw up her arms. In this final moment, she was alone. She envisioned her mother's smile and wrapped herself in the memory of her father's solid, comforting glow. She waited for the pain to strike, for the world to fade into a flurry of foam and bubbles…

Nothing.

A gasp tore through her chest, echoed by the rippling murmur of the crowd.

No pain. Sand still grated against her scales and her heart, the continuous wave of life, continued to rise and fall.

She raised her head.

Mara's mouth had dropped open, her eyes wide. The onlookers stared as well, shifting and muttering amongst themselves. The queen tore herself away from the Vizier and approached the circle, hesitating at the very edge. Every Elder and guard was immobile, tails clenched and gazes locked on Nadine. The very sea itself dared not move.

The three knives of fire that had sealed Nadine's doom hovered before her, blocked by a calm blue glow that radiated from her hands. Nadine's palms shimmered with the substance; she felt like nothing and yet like everything. She was the sea; no, the sea was her. The sky was her crown; no, she was its feet. The land was her haven; no, she was its hope.

The barrage of emotions slashed at her senses, shredding her fear with an overwhelming whisper of awe. Giddiness swept through her; she could do anything!

No. She shook her head. Such power was as dangerous as it was liberating. She could do nothing, not when this power was not her own, not hers to control or understand. She tore her gaze from her hands and snuck a glance at the Vizier.

He was smiling.

* * *

><p>They threw her back in the dungeon. She landed on the hard floor with a grunt, catching herself on her hands and tail. Extra guards surrounded her cell, shoving Madman out of the way. <em>What is all this about? <em>he demanded, crossing his arms. He glared at the guards, but Nadine suspected the question was as much for her as for them.

_Unexpected event at the execution, _one of them muttered. _The Queen's Council has convened immediately. Ask anything further, and we'd have to kill you._

Nadine shuddered and rubbed her arms and aching collarbone. What would come next? Surely she'd be made into a weapon, a tool for the Council to get its Book or its war or whatever it agreed upon. She paced the cell, tearing her fingers through her hair and wishing she didn't feel so helpless and so… dirty. She felt as though she'd skinned a newborn shark, as though she'd stopped living because death was better than bittersweet, as though she'd stopped dreaming because hopelessness was better than every other hurt. She sighed. To save her life, she'd sold her soul.

That is, if the Mer could be said to even _have _souls.

* * *

><p>Telm leaned against the wall outside the council room, arms folded across his chest. The shut door mocked him, dared him to intrude. But he didn't have to be inside to guess what his father was doing: he would be persuading the Council to take advantage of Nadine's newfound powers.<p>

He scowled. His father played a dangerous game.

A shadow slipped across the sand of the hallway. He glanced up to see Esli approaching the door. Her face was white and her fingers shook, but she ignored him as she sank against the wall and waited.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask her—most of all, what this meant for them. If Nadine was whatever the Vizier was looking for, would Esli support whatever his father suggested?

_Esli, _he whispered.

She raised her head, her eyes dull and skin sagging. _Yes?_

_ Do you know any listening manoeuvres?_

She stiffened. _I left the sea-witches—_

_ But they still would have taught you the basics._

Her brow furrowed, but she nodded. Bending until her ear was at the crack in the door, she closed her eyes. Her hands made slight tugging motions, and slowly the currents in the other room slid out, bringing words with them. It seemed to be a difficult task; Esli had to keep pushing and pulling to ensure they continued their circular rhythm, each new wave seeping sound. Telm leaned forward, catching his father's voice.

_It is—_

_ Wait, _someone said. A chair grated back. Too late Telm realized what was happening. He'd just grabbed Esli's arm and cut off the spell when the door opened. Mara stared out at them, glaring at Esli. _Nice try. But you should have known I'd pick up on _that _spell, dear. It's so basic._

Esli's cheeks reddened. Telm suspected Mara was another reason Esli had abandoned her home to pledge herself to the royal family.

The Vizier shouldered Mara out of the way, eyes narrowing as they focused on Telm. _What are you doing here? _he asked, voice calm. But it was the calm of the sea before a storm; the chill in his father's tone reminded Telm of how he'd acted the night Telm's mother had been sold. Cold. Reserved. Vengeful.

_I was waiting for the council to disperse, _Telm said. _So I could talk to you._

The Vizier smiled. _Talking to me doesn't require listening at doors. _He was annoyed—angry, even.

So what was he going to do? Telm thought. Sell him to human slave-traders, like he had done to Telm's mother? Telm's fingers clenched.

_Please_, she had said. _Please don't do this._

_You shouldn't have done what you did, _had been his father's answer. And Telm had watched, screaming and horror-stricken, as his father thrust his mother into the arms of human traders. He had watched as the last glimmer of her beautiful tail had vanished from the sea, had fallen into nightmares as her shrieks echoed in his ears.

His father had rubbed his back and patted his shoulder. _It had to be done. She was on the wrong side, _he'd said. _The royals will win this war, and I want us to survive to see it. If you just listen to me, we'll live. I promise._

Well, they had lived, but Telm didn't think his father had survived for the sake of anything other than his own political gain. With his rebel wife out of the sea, there was nobody to make any allegations that the Vizier was an eel not to be trusted, that he would even use traitors like Nadine to achieve an end. There was nobody to warn the queen, nobody to pluck her out from under his father's thumb…

Except for Telm. And the Vizier had made certain long ago that his son stayed cooperative.

Now Telm avoided his father's gaze, heat surging through him. He wanted to punch something, anything. He wanted to kill, he wanted to die. _Come on, _he said, towing Esli after him. She yanked her hand free of his grip, but she didn't stop following. Together, without a word, they returned to the training fields, where the bloody fingers of the dawn sun had begun to bleed into gold.

* * *

><p>The Vizier sank back into his chair, a furrow creasing his brow. Why did his son insist on being vexing? Listening at doors, following Esli about like a lovesick whale… It was a tad bit difficult to appear authoritative when his son was such a fool.<p>

Serna crunched on a piece of seaweed, her ancient jaws grinding it into a pulp. When she smiled, her teeth were smeared green. _Your son takes after you, I see._

The thinly-veiled insult should not have bothered him, but Serna contained an eel-like deviousness that made her dangerous. And she was old and worn, enough so not to care about his opinions. But she did have fears. He barely concealed a smile. Like anyone else in a position of power, she feared the day when she would lose it—and with it, her importance to her tribe and her people. If the Book was found, who was to say if perhaps those like Serna might become obsolete?

_It is the Key. Is it not, oh Elder of Wisdom? _he asked, throwing her off guard. She startled, jumping in her seat. _The blue glow within Nadine Nandernine?_

The sea-witch, Mara, stared at the table with interesting intensity. Her shoulders were so tense they trembled, hunched up around her neck.

Serna's wrinkled old hag-face was troubled, lines of worry crinkling the creases of age. _I do not know. I have never heard of the Key having a host—if it does indeed exist. You must remember, that both Book and Key are believed to be fables amongst many of the most high-minded, educated Mer—_

_I do not ask that, _he interrupted, wishing she would stop dancing around his questions. She was the biggest obstacle in inducing the rest of the Council to accept his plan—all the others looked to her to lead them. If he could sweep her fins from under her, there would be no choice for them but to shift their trust to him. He had considered an assassination and even tried to hire someone to see it through, but Rurriel had proved too soft in that respect. Surprising for the son of the king's old assassin; and so, sadly, he'd had to be put out of the way before he could blather about the attempt to Serna.

The Vizier wondered if little Nadine shed scales every night about Rurriel. Charming young Mer he had been, but the nice ones never survived. If Telm didn't toughen up soon, he'd discover that the hard way.

Now he crossed his arms and stared Serna down. _Well? Is it possible?_

She jutted out her chin. But something in his gaze must have unnerved her, because she swallowed and said, so quietly he almost didn't catch it, _Yes._

Their fellow Council members murmured to one another. Beside him, the queen jounced in her chair, as a little girl who's told that her dream might come true after all.

_Good. Very good. _Now this was where he came in. Standing up, he addressed them with his sharpest voice. Everyone fell silent, whether in awe or fear he couldn't tell, and he didn't really care. Respect was all he wanted, and right now that was what he had. _The quest of the Seven will go on as planned. Over the next year, they will infiltrate the land and find the Book of Creation, and bring it back. Or die trying._

Mara coughed.

_And, _he continued, _Nadine will be one of them._

Mara straightened, her head snapping up and her eyes flashing. _No! Not after—_

_You would have a weapon amongst us that we do not use? She's more useful alive then dead, and she's willing to be used, willing to obey. And there are ways to make certain she—_

_What if she isn't the Key? _Mara shot.

_What else could she be? _the Vizier snapped, finally losing his temper. He restrained himself from reaching over and snapping her neck. Appearing as cool, calm and unpredictable as a shark was what inspired fear—if you forfeited all control, you opened yourself up to attack. He plastered another confident smile on his face.

Mara's mouth open and shut, opened again… but she had no answer. The others—Jialel, Serna, and the rest of the Sisters—shifted in their seats, tails sliding across the floor.

_One year_, Serna said finally. _If she—they do not return in one year… _She met his gaze, this time without a flinch. He read the thought in her eyes: _I will kill you. _He smirked. He would enjoy watching her try. But at least for now he had her cooperation, for neither of them wanted a war led by sea-witches.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, and favourited this story! It means so much to me! Y'all are awesome! Anybody have any predictions for the next chapter? I'd love to hear your thoughts! <strong>


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